Faults in Fears
by nicolemaemakes
Summary: Scarecrow once again escapes Arkham. The batfamily work together to apprehend him before he's able to test out his new concoction. After a stakeout goes awry, Crane manages to escape, but not before exposing Nightwing to his toxin. Seemingly unaffected by it, the family assumes the new mixture is a failure. As the toxin festers in his system, it attacks him full force. whump galore
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Scarecrow once again escapes Arkham. The batfamily work together to apprehend him before he's able to test out his new concoction. After a stakeout goes awry, Crane manages to escape, but not before exposing Nightwing to his toxin. Seemingly unaffected by the toxin, they assume the new mixture is a failure. As the toxin festers in his system, it attacks him full force.

The story is told in multiple perspectives, mostly focusing on Dick Grayson, and the rest of the Batfamily.

 **Rated M for future violence. And eventually Jason's language, because you know, _Jason_. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Batman. Batman is cool. I am not cool. Therefore, I cannot own Batman, or anything affiliated with the DC franchise.

* * *

Dick had missed this: working on a case together with his family. After Timmy came back with a completely _not_ dead Bruce, he had finally stepped down from the mantle and resumed being who he was meant to be: Nightwing, Bludhaven's black and blue-clad protector. Damian was eager to work alongside his father as Robin, but he was also reluctant to leave Dick's side. The now eleven-year-old missed working with the man he learned to love as his mentor - as his brother, not that he would admit it to anyone. Not that he really _needed_ to. Dick knew Damian missed working with him. As much as he _hated_ being Batman, he missed his Robin.

Of course, Bruce's return had been almost a year ago, but with Nightwing in Bludhaven, Red Robin in Jump City with the Titans, Red Hood with the Outlaws, and Bruce and Damian here in Gotham, they've only had a few opportunities to co-op as a family.

Jonathan Crane was once again at large after having escaped from Arkham a few weeks ago. The batfamily had been attempting to track his movements since his escape, but had yet to locate the Scarecrow. After weeks of research, preparation and gathering information from Jason's contacts in crime alley and the Gotham underworld, all of their Intel had pointed them to this location; a small, abandoned neighborhood in The Gotham Narrows, on the same island as Arkham Asylum. About a half a mile stretch of buildings, far from the asylum, were left untouched for years, and Crane saw it as the perfect location to develop and ship out his new batch of fear toxin.

The acrobat stood in the shadows at the top of a building overlooking the alley of the facility he'd be entering once Batman gave the signal. It was a few minutes past ten and a light rain fell upon the area. The cool, autumn night was only illuminated by the half moon that occasionally dimmed as the passing rain clouds drifted past it. Crouched low and alert, Dick looked in the direction in which his brothers were supposed to be positioned. Nightwing narrowed his eyes and searched the shadows of the building to the far left, where Jason would be. Of course, he couldn't see him, but he knew he was there, waiting and ready. On the roof of the building opposite of Dick, was Tim, using his wrist computer to electronically mark the schematics of the area with the position of Scarecrow's cronies. Dick smiled at his own joke. _Scarecrow's_ _cronies_. _I like that,_ he thought to himself.

A small light blinked on Nightwing's own wrist computer. Opening up the schematics Tim had just sent him, Dick went over the plan again. The holographic computer displayed a 3D-image of the square mile surrounding the building they'd be infiltrating. It was positioned in the center of the map. The ten story high building was surrounded by buildings just as tall on all sides. Tim had marked with red dots the men Scarecrow had guarding the facility. The lack of security cameras in the building and surrounding area made it difficult to pinpoint the enemy's movements. No cameras meant nothing to hack into. Crane compensated for the lack of cameras with a larger sum of men.

Only twenty minutes before, in the windows of the surrounding building were at least five snipers scanning the area. Dick and Jason had effortlessly taken them down covertly. Still, the map was scattered with red dots, indicating that it was heavily guarded. The main entrances of the building were guarded by two large men wielding AK-47 machine guns. In the alleys to both the left and right of the building was ten patrols of at least five men each, either holding a firearm, or a blunt weapon. All of the men were wearing mediocre versions of Scarecrow's signature burlap sacks over their faces.

As soon as Batman broke radio silence, Red Hood and Red Robin were to begin the attack on the men guarding the building's exterior. Batman would take down the men on the interior providing cover while Robin and Nightwing would rendezvous and locate Crane and apprehend him.

" _Batman. The thermal imaging scan of the building is complete."_ Red Robin's voice came over their communicators. Just as it did, new red dots appeared on the holo-map. " _There are fifteen men total spread throughout the first and second floors of the building. Crane and his lab are presumably on the levels below. Ready to proceed when you are. Over."_

A few minutes passed in silence, as Nightwing awaited Batman's response. " _Noted,"_ he replied _. "Nightwing and Robin, proceed on the interior and make your way below. Hood and Red, begin your attack. Remain in stealth. We don't want Crane knowing we're here yet."_

Nightwing smiled as he grappled to the fire escape of the building. Entering through a window of the fourth floor, he scanned the area cautiously.

"- _tt_ -," came a noise on his left. Smiling wide before turning around, Nightwing looked towards his little brother. The boy had grown taller since last time he'd seen him. The eleven year old now looked to be 5'0. He wore his own Robin costume with his signature green combat boots with bright, red laces, and his hood pulled over his head. "Did you not hear Drake? There are no men on this floor." Robin whispered harshly, glaring at his older brother.

Waving his hand dismissively and walking towards the door leading to the staircase Nightwing replied, "I'm 'proceeding with caution,' and all that. Good to see you too, Lil' D."

Nightwing could feel the little demon rolling his eyes as he walked passed him. He stopped at the doorway, pressed his back against the frame, and looked both left and right, then left again before signaling Robin to follow. It appeared that the emergency lights of the building were activated. These lights ran on a generator, and provided a dim light that was enough to see, but not illuminate the building. Robin huffed and casually walked passed him.

"There _are_ no men on this floor, imbecile." Robin whispered harshly before quietly making his way to the stair case. Dick wanted to laugh at his brother's antics. Man, how he missed this precocious little brother.

Together, they descended quietly to the basement levels, Robin slightly ahead. When Dick was Batman, he had allowed Damian to occasionally take the lead. The small gesture was a way to convey to Damian that Dick trusted him.

As they were nearing the second floor, Robin's movements became more slow and cautious. His eyebrows knitted in concentration as he listened for any cronies. They stood on the end of the last landing before the sub-levels of the building. The door leading to it was on the other side of the turn of the hallway. Robin crouched low and placed a hand on the wall as he concentrated on the sounds. Nightwing remained behind him, listening closely, but also eyeing his little brother. The Boy Wonder minutely nodded and held up two fingers behind his back, his head not leaving the direction of the door. After a few seconds, Robin's hand went from holding up to fingers, to forming a first, moving it back and forth two times.

Nightwing nodded to himself, understanding Robin's hand signs. _Two men_ _guarding the door. Both armed._ The only light in this area was the dim, yellow-tinted bulb above the metal door. Removing his escrima sticks from his belt, Nightwing crouched low in a defensive stance and awaited Robin's signal. Still crouched on the ground, Robin slowly removed a small, round smoke pellet from his belt and prepared to throw it down the hall.

Robin inhaled once before releasing it. After it bounced three times, it activated and instantly filled the hallway with thick, black smoke. The lenses of their masks had an electronic filtration system that allowed them to roughly see through the smoke, but not entirely clearly. The former Dynamic Duo began their attack and in less than ten seconds, both cronies were unconscious on the ground and the smoke cleared.

"Nice leadership, Robin." Nightwing commented as he tied up the two unconscious men and retrieved the door access card from one of their belts. Dick smiled as he saw Damian stand up straighter and lift his chin higher at the praise.

"Of course," Damian said before clearing his throat and lifting his hand to press the comm in his ear. " _Nightwing and I have arrived at the entrance of the lower levels."_ He relayed through the comm.

A brief second of static filled their ears and a few grunts from a fight were heard in the background before Batman's response came. " _Noted. Proceed with caution. Have the anti-toxin on hand as well as a re-breather. We do not yet know what we're up against. I'll rendezvous with the two of you when I'm done here."_

Nightwing slid the stolen key-card in the receiver and opened the thick metal door that lead down a dark hallway leading to the lower sub-levels. Nightwing held it open and bowed dramatically. "Ready when you are, Prince Dami." He smiled as Damian huffed in exasperation.

Rolling his eyes for the second time that night, Robin proceeded to descend the staircase with extreme caution. "No names in the field, idiot."

* * *

 **A/N:** I've completed my college applications and I have a lot more time on my hands, so thought I'd try my hand in fanfic. I have this story pretty much planned out, and it will eventually get pretty violent and angsty, but there will also be some fluff and whatnot thrown in the mix. This is just the prologue. It's pretty much AU, but the events in which Batman was "dead" and Tim went to search for Bruce, and Dick and Damian took on the roles as the Dynamic Duo have already occurred. This story was inspired by the plethora of Scarecrow fics I've read, and a lot of content from the recent Batman animated films.

The ages are following closely to what is assumed from the New 52, but maybe a few months to a year in advance.

Bruce is 41? Dick is 22. Jason is 21. Tim is 17. Dami is 11.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** This chapter begins with Damian's POV and switches around a bit, like it will in future chapters.

 **Rated T: For violence.**

 _Rolling his eyes for the second time that night, Robin proceeded to descend the staircase with extreme caution. "No names in the field, idiot."_

* * *

The multiple staircases they descended suggested that they were another four or five floors below the main level of the building. Red Robin had acquired the old building plans, with the help of Oracle before they took on the mission. The hallways in the sub-level stretched in a labyrinth of paths all along the city block, but could only be accessed from the main building. With the schematics, Drake, Gordon, and Father had been able to theorize all the possible locations that Crane set his laboratory.

The rough, concrete hallways were wide, but with low ceilings. Every fifteen feet, a small bulb illuminated a small portion of the wall from above, and the pattern stretched down the long hallways. Aside from the square foot the bulb illuminated every fifteen feet, it was completely dark. The night vision lenses in their masks greatly assisted them in this endeavor. They acted as a trail; the bulbs leading them down specific hallways. Based on their theorized locations, the lights seemed to be the path Crane himself had used. Grayson had his wrist computer out, undoubtedly marking every turn they made should the lights suddenly diminish, or lead them down a different path from where they had entered.

The emergency lights that lit the building above slowly started depleting from sight as they descended further and further down the long hallways of the basement levels. Grayson had presumed leadership, as he was more acquainted with Jonathan Crane than Damian. The Grandson of _the_ Demon was surely _not_ afraid in the slightest. The very idea was preposterous. No. Grayson was to come up with the plan to apprehend Crane once they arrived at their destination, and Damian would follow dutifully.

Damian tried not to flinch as the comm in his ear suddenly roared to life with Todd's voice on the other end. " _B. They have more guys coming in. Burger-boy and I won't be able to fight them all of before one of them radio's Scarecrow. They'll know we're here."_ Damian took note of the absurd nickname Todd used for Drake and stored it in the back of his mind to use for later.

Nightwing quickened his pace down the hallways, and Damian followed suit. More and more static filled the comm as they descended further down the hallways.

" _Have you been spotted,"_ Bruce asked in response.

" _No. But, they'll definitely see the guys we took out and know what's up."_ Red Robin responded slightly panicked. The incompetent fool had one job and he was already failing.

" _I'll rendezvous at your location. We will remain in stealth for as long as possible to buy Nightwing and Robin some time."_ Father presumably had already taken out the men inside the building and heading to Drake and Todd's location. " _Nightwing. Status."_

Robin looked at Nightwing as he pulled up a holographic image on his wrist computer, of what looked to be the sub-level building schematics.

Nightwing pressed the comm on his ear and replied. " _From the looks of the prints RR recovered of the original building plans, it looks like we're reaching the end of the corridor where the lab is presumably located..."_ He trailed off, his eyes burrowing in confusion as his pace slowed. They stopped as the hallway came to a spit with a path on either side. " _Although,_ this _,"_ he stated pointing at the right corridor. " _Isn't in the prints."_ The lights from earlier suggested that they go to the left.

" _What do you mean, Dick-head?"_ Todd asked _. -tt-. Names in the field_ , he thought. Damian rolled his eyes at the idiot's carelessness, rather than scolding him aloud.

Eyes still switching between the two paths, Nightwing didn't acknowledge Todd's name choice. " _Two hallways. One isn't in the schematics."_

" _You'll have to choose,"_ Father stated tersely.

" _Already ahead of you, B_." Grayson grabbed Damian's wrist before he had time to react and lead him down the mess of hallways that were not marked in the schematics.

"Unhand me, Nightwing!" Damian grumbled as he pulled his wrist from his brother's grasp.

They continued running quietly down the long, dark path. "Sorry," he began with a smirk. "Not a lot of time."

The two remained quickly navigating through the long corridors, and after a few minutes, their comm came to life, filled with much more static than before. " _Once you have visual, do not engage."_ Batman stated, seemingly once again engaged in a fight.

 _"What? B, you're kidding. What do you mean 'not engage'? This was the plan!"_ He whispered incredulously into the comm. They were approaching a light. Dim lights, but more lights than they had seen since entering the sub-levels. It appeared to be a doorway opening up to a bigger space. The lights within the room illuminated the doorway. " _Th- an o-er. Await m- ar-vial,"_ could be heard before the signal was completely cut.

* * *

The Batman had been gathering information for months. He had been tracking Jonathan Crane's movements through rumors and shipments associated with him since his escape from Arkham, but hadn't been able to pinpoint the location of the man. Word got around that the man had escaped, and for weeks, rumors had spread throughout the Gotham Underworld about the new, "game changing" formula he'd been developing in that short time; however, the rumors suggested that the formula had not yet been created. Their task was to stop Scarecrow before it was. From what Batman could gather, he would not _need_ all of his family to take him in, but having them would ensure that Scarecrow and his men be taken down quickly and efficiently.

Although Batman attempts to keep up his impenetrable facade of darkness, he enjoyed the light that his family provided. They were all very skilled and completely competent for any task. He liked working with his sons, and his plan required all of them to ensure the success of Scarecrow's incarceration.

Contacting Jason was not a problem. After Batman's return almost a year ago, the murders in Crime Alley, the Red Hood's territory, had essentially ceased and he occasionally worked with Batman and Robin on patrols and busts.

Red Robin did not work on the field with the Dynamic Duo as frequently as he had before he started leading the Titans over in Jump City. Because he was only seventeen, Bruce had asked Tim to complete his last semester of Gotham Academy. Although, Tim was a genius among the teenagers of his generation and more than likely knew all of what was being taught to him, having some sense of normality was important. Bruce had allowed Tim to use the Zeta-tube located in the cave to transport to Jump City on the weekends, or longer vacations, so long as he completed his senior year. Afterwards, whether or not to attend college was his choice, though Bruce had hoped he'd assist in running the company.

The Red Hood's contacts in Crime Alley were very valuable. Word on the street, Scarecrow was hiring a large sum of men to guard the abandoned tech facility in the Gotham Narrrows; on the same island Arkham Asylum was situated. The decaying neighborhood surrounding the asylum was mostly abandoned. It was the Intel Red Hood had gathered that allowed them to find the specific location of Crane's current laboratory and plan accordingly.

Bruce had asked Barbara to run an analysis on the area surrounding the laboratory, to acquire information on all access points and potential escape routes. Due to the lack of traffic or security cameras, she could not provide much assistance on the night of the bust. With no computers or wireless uplinks, there was nothing to hack into. Instead, she assisted Tim in acquiring the old building schematics, and together they drafted all the potential laboratory locations within the sub-levels of the building.

Nightwing was informed of the plan in its entirety only days before, and he arrived back in Gotham from Bludhaven the afternoon of the bust. Red Hood met at the rendezvous point in the Narrows. Nightwing arrived on his cycle while Batman, Robin, and Red Robin arrived in the Batmobile. Once there, Batman, Robin and Red Robin scouted the area from the rooftops as Red Robin marked the location of all patrols on the schematics.

After Red Robin had run the thermal scan and completed all the markers, Batman initiated the bust. Hood and Robin were to take out the patrols on the building's exterior while Batman did the same on the buildings interior. Robin was to leave Batman's side and rendezvous with Nightwing, and the two of them were to navigate to the sub-levels of the building and apprehend Crane.

Stealth was an essential part of the plan. They did not wish to alert Crane of their arrival before he had the opportunity to escape. Once they began to attack the men, time was was of the essence.

Batman had just completed tying up the last goon on the second floor interior when his communicator roared to life, with Red Hood's voice on the other end. " _B. They have more guys coming in. Burger-boy and I won't be able to fight them all of before one of them radio's Scarecrow. They'll know we're here."_ He found his lip quirking up slightly at once of Jason's nicknames for Tim. "Burger-boy" was a new one. He would have to ask him about it later.

" _Have you been spotted?"_ He asked in response, already moving towards the closest window.

" _No. But, they'll definitely see the guys we took out and know what's up."_ Red Robin responded quickly.

" _I'll rendezvous at your location. We will remain in stealth for as long as possible to buy Nightwing and Robin some time."_ He responded, already making his way to the alley bellow.

He spotted the Red Hood leaning against the wall of the alley, presumably acting as a lookout, while, about ten feet away, Red Robin secured a bola around a cluster of three unconscious men.

The Dark Knight landed some distance between the two. Neither of his two older sons flinched upon his arrival. Red Robin turned and nodded minutely in acknowledgment, and a moment later, Red Hood did the same.

He exchanged a similar gesture before pressing his finger to his communicator. " _Nightwing. Status."_

After a minute, his oldest son responded. " _From the looks of the prints RR recovered of the original building plans, it looks like we're reaching the end of the corridor where the lab is presumably located..."_ A pause. " _Although,_ this _...isn't in the prints."_

The Red Hood didn't move from his position against the wall as he pressed on his communicator. " _What do you mean, Dick-head?"_ He asked into the red helmet.

From behind him, Batman shook his head. _No names on the field,_ he wanted to say. The father in him wanted to scold him for the attempted insult. _I mean, his name_ is _Dick._ He would have to decide on which to scold him about later.

Moving slowly, and fluidly, he made his way over to Hood. Maneuvering himself in the shadows, Batman listened closely to the men on the other side of the turn to the next alley, which is presumably what Hood was doing as well. The men were talking among themselves in harsh whispers.

" _Two hallways. One isn't in the schematics,"_ came the response.

Batman heard Red Robin move to listen as well from behind him, just as Red Hood turned to look at him, silently asking for their next move. The Dark Knight jutted his chin up, gesturing towards the rooftops, indicating that they overlook the remaining men.

" _You'll have to choose."_ He spoke silently into the communicator as he removed his grapple gun from his belt.

 _"Already ahead of you, B,"_ stated Nightwing before going silent once again.

The two in front of him nodded before removing their grappling guns and shooting upwards.

The Dark Knight followed after them, and once he arrived on the rooftop of the tallest building in the area, he saw that the two had their hands pressed against the wall, both on opposite sides, crouched on the ledge, the Red Hood's ear turned towards the men below. Batman walked over to them, as Hood held his pointer finger up, indicating that he stop moving. He was most likely using the long range audio receiver in his helmet to listen in on the conversation below. Red Robin was overlooking the adjacent alley, making sure the men did not come too close to the unconscious men they had hidden behind the dumpster for the time being.

Even though Batman couldn't see it, he could imagine Jason behind the mask, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

After a moment, Hood stood and walked towards Batman as Red Robin remained in a crouched position near the ledge.

"Batman, we have a problem," Jason said as he removed his helmet and held it between the crook of his arms and his left side. A red domino mask covered his face, and his black hair, shorter on the sides and a white streak in the front, was a mess atop his head. His dark brown leather jacket, and the all black Kevlar suit glistened due to the light rain that fell upon the night, and his two hand pistols were rested in the holsters at the waist. The twenty-one year old had agreed to load his guns with rubber bullets, rather than the lethal ones he had normally used. He was on a good streak of _not killing anyone_ , so Bruce would allow him this small gesture of still wielding the dreaded firearms.

Upon hearing that, Red Robin moved towards the two. His costume was far more decorated on its exterior than the Hood's. Thankfully, Tim had ditched the cowl and settled for the red and black Kevlar suit, with accents of yellow. The yellow belts that crossed over his chest with the signature bird symbol was the source of the electro-magnetic pulse emitter that would activate the cape behind him and act as a glider. "The men, on the street below are cutting it really close to our guys we took out earlier." He looked towards his older brother, "What'd you hear, Hood?"

Running a hand through his mess of hair, Jason released a heavy sigh. "They knew we were coming."

Batman had figured Crane knew that Batman and Robin would be hear for the bust. They were always there to bring him back to Arkham before his plans got too out of hand, surely that is what Red Hood was referring to. "Yes, but are they aware we are here?" He asked in a low voice.

Red Hood shook his head, looking at the man he saw as a father. "No, Batman. I mean; _they knew we were coming._ He knew _all of us_ were coming tonight."

The Dark Knight's frown deepened. _Impossible._ The Dynamic Duo did not work with all of Gotham's heroes often. Rarely did they come together for a small time bust such as this. The Intel they had received only suggested that Crane was simply _developing_ his new toxin, not distributing it. Surely, he would not think a job like this required _all_ of his sons, and that was their advantage. Crane would only have been anticipating the Dynamic Duo.

Red Robin's eyebrows knit tighter. "What do you mean? What did you hear?" He asked as he lifted his left arm and pulled up his holo-computer as Jason spoke.

"They already know about the guys we took out. They're tasked with remaining on a certain patrol path and _wait_ for us to take them out. Crane has guys on the lower levels. _A lot_ of guys. He knew we'd have 'Wing and Robin try and take him down while the rest of us took out the guys out here. Batman, we're being _played_." He stated angrily.

On Tim's computer, the blue schematics provided a 3D image of the building's lower levels. After pressing a few keys, two small, green blinking dots appeared on the screen as the blue schematics of the building disappeared.

"Batman, Nightwing and Robin are in an undocumented part of the lower levels. I can't pinpoint their location based on the map we have." Red Robin stated before closing his computer and removing the collapsing bow-staff from his belt. To Batman's right, Red Hood had placed his helmet back on and was removing his guns from his holsters.

They looked at him expectantly, awaiting their next instructions.

"We are to take down the remaining men out here, then make our way to Nightwing and Robin's last known location." He said walking past them onto the ledge. They were positioned directly above a patrol of ten men, all armed with either pistols, or blunt weapons varying from metal pipes, to crowbars. The other two followed suit as he jumped down to the unsuspecting men below.

"It's the Bat!" One of the men yelled, and all of them got into defensive stances.

Unlike before when they proceeded with stealth, the men this time had the opportunity to fight back. In order to get continue to the basement levels, they had to first take out the men outside to prevent them from following and attacking the three from behind. The quickest way to do this was to attack with the intention of attracting the rest of the patrols to their location.

Gunshots rang through the alley, both from the goons and the Red Hood. Red Robin released multiple smoke pellets on the area and all that could be heard was grunts and the sound of armed fists hitting flesh and weapons and men clattering on the ground.

Shortly after the fight began, Batman pressed his hand to his communicator. " _Once you have visual, do not engage."_

The response came in static. _"Wh-B, -'re kidding. Wh- at do -u m- 'not engage'? This w- th- plan!"_ He could hear Nightwing's exasperation through the comm, even through the static.

"That's an order. Await my arrival. There are more men down there than we anticipated. They know you're coming. _Do not engage._ " Bruce awaited the response, but none came. He could only assume the signal had been cut off, and hope his sons were heeding his words.

* * *

 _'Do not engage'_ , Damian thought angrily _._ Father wanted them to _wait_? _Did father not trust us to see to that our part of the plan was executed successfully?_

The former Dynamic Duo slowed their pace as they reached the end of the corridor. They crept forward, with their backs on the walls, remaining in the hallway to use the shadows as cover, but still be able to observe the room. The doorway lead to a catwalk that overlooked the wide space. From their level of the catwalk, the rafters that stretched throughout the higher level, and built around the support beams, could be seen. Slowly approaching the doorway, and cautiously looking around, Nightwing signaled Robin to follow, deeming it safe from view.

Crouched low behind the railings on the metal rafters, The Boy Wonder took note of his surroundings. The space was very large, and much like the endless hallways they had just entered from, the walls were concrete. Robin estimated it to be about 75000 square feet. It was almost like a warehouse underground; much like Cadmus, or the space beneath Wayne Enterprises. From the ground below of what he could see, to the ceiling only a ten feet up from their position, the room was about thirty feet high.

Large, wooden crates stacked ten feet high filled the corners of the room and an entire wall in the direction in front of them in no particular organizational pattern. Towards the center of the room were rows of tables, in a rectangular formation, covered with test tubes filled with various colors of liquids and contraptions Damian had never even seen in the _Batcave_.

Surely the wooden crates were not yet filled with their intended contents. This mess of the items on the tables suggested that whatever Crane was developing was not yet completed and therefore not ready to be distributed.

Robin continued to look around the room. He counted about eleven men. Seven were standing on the far right wall, about ten feet apart from each other, pacing in front of the cluster of the stacked, wooden crates. Four of them were speaking to each other in hushed tones by the opposite wall, closer to the tables and in front of the door. From what he could see, the only entrance into the room was from their current position, and the large double-door in the center wall to the left of their view.

Nightwing nudged Robin's shoulder and directed his attention to a man standing at the center of the makeshift laboratory, Jonathan Crane, dressed in that insipid outfit he calls a costume. The thick, ragged, dark green and brown clothes and a more fitted burlap sack, with stitching covering a majority of the material, set him apart from his associates. Rather than a rope tied around his waist, as Father's files had shown, he wore what appeared to be some sort of utility belt wielding various, sealed vials with a sloshy, green liquid within.

He did indeed look like a scarecrow; however, he did not expect him to look as...horrific as he did. Surely scarecrows in real life were not that dreadful looking. He would know; Todd had forced him to watch a ridiculous movie in which a psychotic, ditsy girl gets swept up by a tornado and encounters a scarecrow who wishes to seek a man who could give him a brain. The fool was already functioning quite sufficiently, suggesting he already possessed one; however, he doubted his idiocy could be salvaged.

Crane appeared to be pacing back and forth, but not out of anticipation, but more of excitement. There was a bounce in his step as he held a syringe-gun in his hand and close to his face as if to examine it's contents. From the incision of the burlap sack where his mouth was, Robin could see the smile on his face.

"It's ready," he announced excitedly to his associates. One of the four conversing among each other only a few minutes before approached Scarecrow and whispered something in his ear. Crane let out a low chuckle and waved his hand dismissively, still looking at the contents of the syringe. "We needn't worry. I've awaited this day since I escaped that dreaded asylum only weeks before. I have planned for every possibility in that short time."

Nightwing and Robin exchanged quick glances before turning back to look at Scarecrow. Crane had walked to the far end of the table closest to him and lifted a cylindrical object that appeared to be an electronic aerosol dispenser with his left hand, the right still holding the syringe. "All I need is a test subject." He stated almost whimsically. "The Batman will do. He is outside, isn't he?" Crane placed the strange aerosol contraption and turned towards his associates his arms out wide, the syringe still grasped in his hand, finger on the trigger.

At this point, Robin glanced towards Nightwing, who was already walking down the rafters towards where he'd be standing directly above Scarecrow.

 _That fool!_ Damian thought angrily. _Father had instructed him not to engage!_ Father had both Todd and Drake with him. At the correct moment, Nightwing and Robin could come in from above, but only if the opportunity presented itself. Engaging at this present time would risk them getting caught and Father and the others would be put at a higher risk of being exposed to this new toxin. Crane had every opportunity to utilize that aerosol contraption he had seen earlier, and test his new toxin on all of them.

Nightwing glanced towards Robin and made various signals with his hands. Damian understood them perfectly: _Eleven men. Seven on the right, unarmed. Four on the left, armed. Long term smoke bombs. Engage the unarmed. I'll engage Scarecrow and the men guarding him._

Damian shook his head rapidly. The glare he threw Grayson's way said, _Father said not to engage and wait for his arrival._

Nightwing responed with his own glare and it reminded Damian of their days as Batman and Robin. He may not be Batman anymore, but he certainly had a glare worthy of the Batman. Damian was not afraid of the glare. His own father invented it.

The fool continued to use hand signals. _I'm going whether you follow me or not._

Damian's eyes widened for a brief second, before he nodded tersely. Someone had to watch his back, and surely Father will reprimand him later for being so reckless, but _he_ would not be at fault for Grayson's idiocy.

Nightwing crouched low, preparing to jump. Damian did the same, arming the smoke bombs.

Damian navigated his way on the rafters until he was positioned just about the seven men on the far right, then looked at his brother closely, awaiting the signal.

" _Now_ ," mouthed Nightwing and the two immediately jumped from the rafters, and onto the men below them. Although Damian had more more to take down, none of them were armed when they had initially seen them. As Robin fought through the smoke, he counted the men he took down. He could beat these fools with his eyes closed.

Kick right. Flip left. Kick low. Punch right. Elbow. Two men down. The snapping of bones were satisfying as he took down the men one by one.

Kick. Jab. Flip. Punch. Another man down.

Three men surrounded him at once in defensive stances. All three were holding some form of blunt weapon. The tallest wielded a rusty metal crowbar, while the others wielding long, thick metal pipes. A shit-eating grin crept on to his face. _Finally,_ he thought. _A challenge._ The demon spawn fought extensively for a few minutes, fully focused on the task at hand. Using the shorter of the three as a starter, Robin ran and jumped at the height of the taller man and spun mid air to kick him in the face. He then landed on the back of another, and pulled him further into the smoke as he had him in a disabling choke-hold. Once down, Robin effortlessly took out the last man. Eventually, all three were dropped unconscious as another took his place in the brawl.

Punch left. Kick left. Punch. Ki-. Damian staggered back as he felt the air out of his lungs leave him. As he fought to catch his breath, he looked up to see another man join the fray in a dark green gas mask, arming a metal baseball bat. Robin straightened before returning to his defensive stance, running up to the two just as another approached from his left.

A larger man tackled him from his right and threw into an awaiting men on his left. The two of them held either arm and tugged them roughly behind his back, while the man who tackled him moved to kick him in the chest. Reacting quickly, Robin brought his leg upwards, towards the face of the man holding his right arm. The satisfying _pop!_ as his nose was moved out of place made Robin smirk. The man now with a broken nose, staining the burlap sack over his face red, released him, and it gave Damian the opportunity to use the arm the other man still held as an anchor as he brought both his legs up above him to wrap his legs behind the man's head at the knees.

The move caused the older man to lean towards the man that had previously moved to kick him in the chest. Rather than hitting Robin, the idiot kicked the other idiot in the face. Dropping to the ground in a crouch, slightly breathless, Robin moved out of the cluster of thick, black smoke, away from the men.

Gunshots rang throughout the large concrete room, and echoed repeatedly as the sound bounced off the walls. Robin made his way over to Nightwing's location to assist him.

Grayson was a fool! He engaged before ensuring that more men would not enter this room! Where had they all come from? The only entrance was from the location that they themselves had entered, but the mess of hallways to that location had no rooms in that proximity. They would not have gotten there so quickly. The only other entrance was the main door, closest to where Nightwing had begun his attack.

Now running to Nightwing's location, Robin placed his rebreather in his mouth, in case the toxin went airborne, and wielded a few birdarangs. Before he could launch them, a flash bomb landed at his feet and blew up as soon as it impacted the ground.

The filters in the lenses of his mask adjusted to the light to ensure maximum visibility, both in the dark and extreme light; however, with the sudden explosion of light, the lenses did not have time to adjust.

Robin screamed as he stumbled back, and pressed his palms into his eyes. With his eyes clenched shut, he saw the blackness behind his lids flood with explosions of various bright colors.

A sudden pain shot up his left back-side as he felt the impact of a wooden bat. Robin turned in that direction and blindly struck out, still not being able to see. He heard another pair of footsteps approach from the opposite direction and he swiveled and kicked out, his feet meeting air.

A punch was delivered to his face from his right side, and as his face turned upon the impact, another punch on the opposite side of his face was delivered with equal force. Dazed, he attempted to back away, just as he felt someone grab his shoulders tightly, and roughly turn him around to deliver one final punch before darkness overtook him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I had a snow day, so I thought I'd update with a shorter chapter. This chapter is told in Jason's and Dick's POV, right before the confrontation with Scarecrow that's going to be happening in the next chapter.

 **Rated T: For violence and language.**

 _Dazed, he attempted to back away, just as he felt someone grab his shoulders tightly, and roughly turn him around to deliver one final punch before darkness overtook him._

* * *

As Dick crouched low in the rafters watching the activity down below, all he could think of were Batman's words through the comm: _Do not engage._

That was the plan! He didn't come all the way from Bludhaven just so he couldn't execute it. Did Bruce not think he could do it? Maybe they have already been compromised? Or worse: maybe one of them got hurt. Dick prayed it wasn't the latter. Nightwing continued to scan the room.

Eleven men total. Seven were standing about ten feet apart from each other, on the far right wall; all appeared to be unarmed. Looking to his left, Nightwing counted four more men, only these men were all wielding some type of firearm holstered on their belts. Now focusing his attention to the structure of the expansive building, Nightwing saw only two entrances: the entrance they had entered from, and the large double-doors on their left. His gaze drifted towards the middle of the room, where long, portable tables were set up in a rectangular formation around a single man. With the ragged, dark green and brown colored clothes, and fitted burlap sack scattered in rough stitching, Dick recognized him immediately: Jonathan Crane.

Nightwing nudged Robin's shoulder and directed his attention to a man standing at the center of the makeshift laboratory. He could see Damian's glare deepen as he eyed the man.

Scarecrow appeared to be pacing back and forth, but not out of anticipation, but more of excitement. There was a bounce in his step as he held a syringe-gun in his hand and close to his face as if to examine it's contents.

"It's ready." Crane began speaking to his cronies, in a loud voice.

A man from the from the left of the lab approached Scarecrow and whispered something in his ear before Scarecrow waved his hand dismissively, still observing the syringe contents. "We needn't worry. I've awaited this day since I escaped that dreaded asylum only weeks before. I have planned for every possibility in that short time."

Nightwing and Robin exchanged quick glances, and Dick began running through the options in his head. The hallway in which they entered had no rooms in that proximity and therefore would unlikely have more men coming in from there. From the two exits, only one of them was likely to bring in more reinforcements: the main double-door entrance. If there even was more reinforcements in the lower levels. Based on years of experience working against Scarecrow, Dick knew that Jonathan Crane preferred to work in solitude as to not be disturbed.

Nightwing watched as Crane walked to the far end of the table closest to him and lifted a cylindrical object that appeared to be an electronic aerosol dispenser of some sort. "All I need is a test subject." He stated almost whimsically. "The Batman will do. He is outside, isn't he?" Crane placed the strange aerosol contraption and turned towards his associates his arms out wide, the syringe still grasped in his hand, finger on the trigger.

Dick's eyes widened briefly behind the mask. _Crane knew the Batman had arrived at the scene. They're running out of time._ Nightwing began walking along the rafters towards Scarecrow's position, still scanning the area. The large, tall stacked wooden crates would provide a substantial amount of cover. He counted again how many men they needed to take down. Still it was eleven men standing guard a distance from Scarecrow. If he took out the men on the left, closest to the double-door, then he could take down anyone else who might join the fray while Damian took out the unarmed men on the right. Sure, Robin would be taking out more men, but they were unarmed and Damian could probably take them all with his eyes closed.

All they would need is brief cover. Smoke bombs would be more than enough. After he took out the men, he could apprehend Scarecrow, and if the timing was right; Damian could approach covertly from behind and assist him.

Nightwing began making hand signals to Robin: _Eleven men. Seven on the right, unarmed. Four on the left, armed. Long term smoke bombs. Engage the unarmed. I'll engage Scarecrow and the men guarding him._

Damian shook his head rapidly and Nightwing responded with a glare. _Yes,_ Batman had said not to engage, but Nightwing and Robin were more than capable for the task. They've taken out way more guys before! _Hell,_ they've taken out Scarecrow more times than he can count on two hands! Why he didn't think they could trust them for the job was beyond him. Crane was expecting the Dynamic Duo, so _Scarecrow doesn't even know they're here!_

 _I'm going whether you follow me or not,_ Nightwing angrily signed back.

The lenses of Robin's mask widened for a brief second, before he nodded tersely.

Nightwing crouched low, preparing to jump. Damian did the same, arming the smoke bombs. He could feel his little brother's eyes watching him as he awaited for the signal.

" _Now_ ," mouthed Nightwing and the two immediately jumped from the rafters, and onto the men below them.

And the fight was on.

* * *

Jason was _pissed_.

The Red Hood recalled the conversation he had eavesdropped in on earlier. Leaning in, but in a crouched position on the ledge of the building, Red Hood activated his long age audio receiver to listen in on the men below. The idiots guarding the place were being _paid_ to stall, and to stall as long as possible - even if it meant being taken down by the Bat. They must have been paid a hell of a lot for them to agree to get their asses handed to them. The entire time they'd been in stealth, they knew the Bats were there.

To make matters worse, Crane had more guys down below _waiting_ for Nightwing and Robin.

"Out of all the guys down in the basement, _we_ were chosen to wait around like sitting ducks," Jason heard a man whispering harshly to another by his side.

The other man scoffed, then replied in a deep, Brooklyn accent, "We just have to be here long enough for them to make the grab, then we can get out of here. Scarecrow said they just need Nightwing, but no doubt the Bat-brat is with him."

His eyebrows furrowed upon hearing this.

 _'Make the grab,'_ Jason thought. _How would they have known Nightwing and Robin would be down there?_

After all of their planning, contacting his snitches in Crime Alley, and prowling around the slums of Gotham, the ball was still not in their court. Crane still had prepared for the Dynamic Duo _and_ his brothers to be here, but after all his years of working with Batman, and being a crime fighter, he knows when things don't go as planned, you adapt.

And that's exactly what they did.

After relaying what he heard, Batman had initiated their attack on the men, and now they were letting their presence known. Gunshots rang throughout the alley. Jason wielded two Beretta semi-automatics in both hands. He aimed his gun with the intention of not making kill shots, even though they were loaded with rubber bullets. Still, at this close proximity, they hurt like a bitch and still could cause some damage.

His fist continued to make contact with faces, and grunts and the sounds of weapons and bodies clattering to the ground were satisfying to his ears. Through the comm, he could hear Batman instruct Nightwing not to engage and Nightwing's indigent response.

To his left, he could see Red Robin taking down men left and right with his bow staff. A beefy man, slightly taller than Jason, ran at him through the smoke from his right; his arms lifting a crowbar over his head aiming to strike the Red Hood.

 _Don't even_ think _about hitting me with that,_ Jason thought before roughly grabbing the man's shoulders and throwing him to his left, just as Red Robin spun and drop kicked the man to the ground.

Years of working with the Bat, he learned when you're in a team, you fight as a team. Red Hood gave Red Robin a quick nod in thanks and continued the fight.

He hoped _, for once_ , Golden-boy wouldn't be an idiot and just wait for them to get there; but that was wishful thinking.

* * *

Nightwing was an idiot.

There were more men than he had counted, like, _way_ more men than he had counted. He had taken down the original four armed men that he had seen only to have ten more replace them. He let out a string of curses, more words than he thought he knew, as bullets whizzed past him.

 _They must be coming from the door,_ he thought as he released more smoke pellets and ran towards it. Bullets continued to rain around him, and chunks of wood scattered as bullets impacted them.

 _The crates!_ His thoughts practically screamed. Pulling out two small explosives, Nightwing aimed towards the bottom of a particularly large stack of crates, right by the door. Throwing them, he smirked as the crates fell directly in front of it, now blocking the only other entrance and exit. Why he hadn't thought of that before was beyond him.

Satisfied, he turned back around and began to run back towards the fight, only to feel the impact of a bullet hit his upper back on his right side. Luckily, the bullet hit the Kevlar, but that didn't mean it wouldn't leave a nasty bruise. Ducking and turning in the direction in which the bullet came he saw a group of five men approaching with their guns aimed at him.

He had just blocked the door! _Where the hell are they coming from_?

Looking behind the approaching group of cronies where the crates were, he saw that one of the walls of a particularly large crate was lowered, and another goon pulling down the wall of another.

Nightwing's eyes widened behind his mask. _The crates!_ He thought for the second time in a short period. _There are actually_ guys _in the fucking crates!_

Pulling out a few wingdings, Nightwing began to disarm as many as he could. His upper left arm suddenly flared with pain as a bullet grazed it, cutting right through the fabric.

 _Okay, new plan,_ he thought as he through more smoke bombs in the direction of the crates. If he can capture Scarecrow now, he can get him to call of his men.

Arming his escrimas, Nightwing ran towards the center of the room, where Scarecrow was last seen.

* * *

 **A/N:** Next update should be a longer chapter within the next week or so. Thanks for reading and to those who took the time to review.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Shout out to mother nature for giving me another snow day to write this chapter, and also to everyone who reviewed!

 **Rated T: For violence.**

 _Arming his escrimas, Nightwing ran to the center of the room, where Scarecrow was last seen._

* * *

The adrenaline that pumped through his veins prevented him from feeling the pain that would surely come later when the rush wore off.

The bullet wound on his left arm was still bleeding profusely and Nightwing did his best to staunch the blood flow as he ran. He continued to dodge the spray of bullets coming his way as Scarecrow's cronies continued to shoot blindly into the smoke.

 _Are they not worried about hitting their own guys!?_ Nightwing thought as he ran. _Exactly how many guys did he even have down here!?_

The smoke began to clear just as Nightwing was approaching the makeshift lab in the center of the room. Jumping over the table closet to him, Bludhaven's protector dropped into a defensive stance about fifteen feet from Scarecrow.

Jonathan Crane remained standing, his back facing Nightwing, not acknowledging his arrival. He was no longer holding the syringe he saw from earlier. Scarecrow stood in front of five of his cronies, partially blocking their view of Nightwing. They were practically huddled together, something large clutched in their grasps.

"Call your men off, _Crane_ ," Nightwing growled, activating the electrifying control on his escrimas.

Dick watched as Crane's shoulders shook as he let out a low chuckle. "I wouldn't do anything you'll regret, _Nightwing._ " Dick's glare deepened as Scarecrow took three slow and deliberate steps to the left and slowly turned towards him.

What Dick saw made his shoulders drop slightly. In the arms of Scarecrow's cronies was Damian. Two larger men on either side of him had his arms in as vice grip, pulling his arms apart as far as the eleven-year old's limbs would allow him. Two more men had either of his brother's shoulders locked in their arms at the crock of their elbows. Another had a gun pointed at his temple. One wrong move and they could pull his arms right out of their sockets. Or put a bullet in his brain.

Robin was struggling harshly in his captors' grasps; although, he lacked his usual dexterity. He was probably nursing a concussion. Angry, red and purple bruises graced his cheek bones and blood dripped down his chin from a split lip. His baby brother continue to shift his weight as if he meant to alleviate the pressure on his sides, which meant he probably took some damage to the ribs. Aside from that, he seemed relatively fine: he still wore that scowl on his face, looking as angry as ever. _Damn_ , he was going to get an earful when they got home.

The worry he felt in that moment was overwhelming. Worry and guilt. _Never_ have they been in hostage situations such as this during their time as the Dynamic Duo. Damian has proven time and time again that he can hold his own, but it was Dick's own plan that landed them in this position. It was his fault that Damian was hurt - his fault that his brother was staring at the barrel of a gun.

Nightwing considered weighing out his options, but there was no use. There was only one option here.

Dick lowered his defensive stance and dropped his weapons. He then slowly raised his arms and placed his hands behind his head in surrender.

* * *

Consciousness came back to Damian like he was swimming in mud. The darkness that plagued his vision was slowly retreating, but the blurriness was still there. He blinked minutely a few times, each blink being longer than the last. Explosions of bright, vibrant colors danced across the darkness behind his lids, as if he stared at a light too long.

Why was he here again?

His head felt like it weighed a ton, and the pounding in his temples was constant, threatening to take his consciousness once again. The first thing he became aware of was that he was being moved. Well, more like dragged. The Boy Wonder kept his head low, feigning unconsciousness in order not to make the idiot goons aware of his attentiveness. He could see the silhouettes of men surrounding him. His arms were in the vice grip of two large, dark clothed men on either side. Heavy footsteps from behind them suggested that two more men were following closely behind. A few feet in front, another man was leading them to the center of the room.

Licking his lips, Damian tasted the familiar coppery taste of blood. Taking a deep breath, he continued to access his injuries. His back left side was almost numb with pain, but the pain he felt in his chest was clear as day. Each breath struggled to fill his lungs as he fought the pain in his ribs. Bruised maybe? Certainly not broken. The strain the men were putting on them by holding his limbs in such a way was not helping him in the slightest. His face hurt too, and Damian could only imagine the field day Todd was going to have making fun of how swollen it surely was. Alfred surely would have a fit once he saw the bruises that most certainly marred his body.

Fighting for awareness more vigorously, Robin tried to get a better hold of his surroundings, but the ringing in his ears was making it difficult. Why was he captured? Why was he injured? Were those gunshots he was hearing?

...Gunshots...

...Crane...

... _NIGHTWING!_

The vertigo retreated almost instantly. He remembered his mission. _Their_ mission. He was not going to fail Father nor his brothers. The toxin, according to Scarecrow, was now complete. He had long lost his rebreather sometime during the fight, but luckily he kept a spare in his belt. Nightwing _needed_ him right now. Shooting upwards, Robin attempted to relinquish the hold the goons had on him, but to no avail. He kicked outwards only to have the two men tailing the them from behind hold him at the shoulders, at the crook of their arms, on either side.

The man leading turned around at the commotion, lifted the gun he held in his right hand and aimed it at the center of Robin's forehead.

"Don't do anything stupid, kid," he commanded in a low, raspy voice.

"I'd say the same," the Boy Wonder snapped back. It took four men and a gun pointed at his head to hold an eleven year old boy? Pathetic.

They continued to hold Robin until they arrived at their location in the center of the room, directly in front of Jonathan Crane. Gunshots continued to echo throughout the facility, but Crane did not seem bothered in the slightest. The man who had previously pointed the gun at his forehead now held it to his temple.

The man in question turned upon their arrival and approached the group slowly.

"Perfect. Everything is going swimmingly," Scarecrow stated, his hands gripped behind his back.

Even though Damian couldn't see it, he could practically hear the smile behind the dirty, stitched burlap sack. Scarecrow stood close enough to him to block his vision of the other side of the room. Robin continued his struggle. He still had to assist Nightwing!

As if on cue, he heard his brother's angry voice from behind Crane. "Call your men off, _Crane_ ," Nightwing growled.

He continued to struggle, but his motion was extremely limited, part due to the men whom restrained him, part due to the pain he attempted to alleviate from his ribs by shifting his weight from foot to foot as he struggled. Crane released a low chuckle and Damian could feel the rumble his voice gave off as he laughed.

"I wouldn't do anything you'll regret, _Nightwing._ " Scarecrow took three slow and deliberate steps to the left and slowly turned towards the opposite side of the room.

Grayson stood about fifteen feet from Crane, crouched in a low, defensive position. The two brothers made eye contact, and Grayson's stance dropped slightly.

Robin could only imagine how pathetic he looked at that moment. Blood continued to drip down his chin from his split lip, his face was likely marred with bruises, and he was still in the grasps of a group of complete _imbeciles_! If he was physically able, and not staring at the barrel of a gun, Robin could take these guys out, no problem! Grayson would be ashamed - _Father_ would be ashamed for allowing himself to get captured so easily.

Grayson wasn't looking so well either. On his left arm, a small strip of the fabric was torn clean off showing a long, nasty gash on his skin, likely from a bullet wound. Nightwing was slightly panting, but not noticeably, as the scowl on his face deepened.

From their days as the Dynamic Duo, Damian learned to decipher exactly how his mentor felt, even behind the mask. Behind the scowl, Grayson's emotions practically hit him like waves.

 _Anger_. At him, surely. He had ruined the plan. Failed the mission.

 _Worry_. Batman was going to yell at him for his failure.

... _Guilt_?

Why would Grayson feel guilty? It was he who was in the arms of the enemy, not Nightwing. Yes, it was Nightwing's plan that got him in this position, but had he executed his part properly and adapted to the situation, he would not be in this predicament. If he was more competent, they could have avoided this situation entirely. The mission is of the utmost importance. Grayson likely felt guilty about what he would have to do to apprehend Crane: risk his life for the sake of the mission. Damian understood. He was not some civilian hostage. If he had to die for the success of this mission, then so be it. Surely, that was the source of his brother's guilt.

Nightwing was likely going to attack Crane while he thought he was pondering on what choice he was going to make. He would expect Nightwing to save his Robin, but he'd go for the offensive, have Crane call his men off, and complete the mission. Who knows? Hopefully it will be before a bullet was lodged in his skull.

Robin's movements became slower as he tired himself out by struggling. The pounding in his head was persistent. He looked to his brother expectantly, waiting for him to make his move, but he did something he was not expecting. Lowering his defensive stance and dropping his weapons, Nightwing raised his arms in surrender.

 _The fool!_ He would not allow the enemy to call the shots if it was his own life that was at stake!

Removing his gaze from his brother, Damian glanced around the room. Goons surrounded them from all sides. They formed a circle a distance away from them, ready to jump in should Crane demand it. Where had they all come from?!

Nightwing allowed two particularly larger men grab both of his arms, as another kicked him roughly in the chest, bringing him to his knees. The same man lifted his fist to strike him in the face, and did so with as much force as his body would allow. Wordlessly he moved aside to allow another man wielding a bat to strike his brother repeatedly until he was left in a bloody heap, only being held up by the arms by the two men who initially grabbed him.

Damian wanted to scream. He was out for blood. Not only had he watched as those _animals_ beat his brother to a pulp, but he watched helplessly as his bother _allowed_ them to do so. These monsters _had_ to pay.

The two men continued to hold Nightwing up as Scarecrow approached him. Grayson was panting heavily as blood from his split lip and broken nose dripped audibly onto the concrete floor, his head hanging low. He didn't even appear to be conscious, but he slowly lifted it to meet the eyes of Scarecrow's mask.

* * *

Nightwing gathered the saliva and blood that had collected in his mouth and turned his head to the side to spit onto the concrete floor.

"Ow," he coughed.

He could hear Robin scoff from the other side of Crane.

"Nice of you to drop in," Scarecrow stated as he turned and approached the table closest to him.

Nightwing took a brief moment to control his breathing before responding. "Nice of you to have me." He glanced around and took note of all the men surrounding him. "Although, if I knew you'd have so many... _guests_ , I would've brought gifts."

As Crane walked away, he could see Damian about fifteen feet away, still not having moved from his previous position. He still looked relatively fine, and he stopped struggling in the arms of his captors. Dick sent a reassuring smile his way, but his teeth were probably stained with blood, making it _far_ from reassuring.

 _Batman and the other's should be here soon. I'll keep him talking,_ he tried to relay to Damian through a look. Damian responded by nodding minutely, meaning he understood.

"No worries," Crane's voice brought his attention back to where he was standing. "I have one here for _you_." In his arms was the cylindrical aerosol, _bomb-looking,_ contraption he saw from earlier.

"How nice of you," Nightwing grit through his teeth. "New formula, I presume?"

Scarecrow laughed in response, "You've come to know me so well, _Bat._ " He practically spit out the last word, as if it was an insult. "But, yes. My newest creation is... _revolutionary_." He said almost whimsically.

Robin took the opportunity to jump into the conversation. "What's so special about it?" He asked sarcastically.

Scarecrow spoke, his low voice reverberating against the walls of the closed room, "Our brains - _our minds -_ are _everything._ Deep within our heads are our fears. The _fears_ that have the ability to _trap us_ in ourselves - keep us _prisoner._ My goal as a doctor, was to find those fears buried deep within the mind and find a means to conquer them. My serums, _all of my serums,_ had one goal: to expose fear buried deep within a person and alter the reality of a specific person. To make their fear _their reality."_

"That doesn't answer his question," Nightwing interrupted. "What's so special about this one?"

Scarecrow chuckled. "Patience, my dear boy." Crane pushed a button on the machine, activating a green blinking light that lined the sides. "It lacked patience," he said, mostly to himself.

Crane placed the contraption on the table and walked again towards Nightwing, "I'm going to find all the _faults_ in your _fears_ and i'm going to expose them." He bent his knees so that he was at eye-level. " _Slowly_. I'm going to make you suffer."

Nightwing raised a brow and imagined Robin rolling his eyes at how cliche the phrase was. Like, no one has ever said _that_ before. Their entire lives were based on conquering fear, and Nightwing has been exposed to more than one version of Scarecrow's toxin in his time as Batman's partner. He could hold his own and face whatever Crane had to throw at him.

"So that thingy," Nightwing jutted his heads towards the contraption on the table. "New formula? Is that suppose to make it airborne, or what?"

That small contraption would probably only do, what? Fill the room, at the _most._ Batman and the League had devices that could do more than that, and then some. All they had to do was find whatever antidote they needed, and if Crane decided to use those devices to infect Gotham, the League would be able to counteract it before he did any real damage.

Still crouched in front of Nightwing, Scarecrow turned to look at the device again. " _That_ ," he began. "That's not the new formula. That _'thingy'_ is my escape plan."

Scarecrow stood and took a few steps back. Nightwing's brows furrowed in confusion just as his head was violently pulled back by his hair, and a long, thick metal needle was roughly plunged into the side of his neck. The men holding him released him, and Dick fell forwards, one of his arms catching him as the other gripped the side of his neck.

" _That_ is the new formula," Scarecrow said as he gestured for his men to move.

The vertigo he felt was overwhelming. His head felt heavy, and his body swayed as he fought for control of his own body. Looking up, he could see the machine Crane left for him on the table begin to rapidly release a green fog, and the silhouette of Robin running towards him. Without thinking, he inhaled deeply as the fog engulfed him. Nightwing's arms went lax, and he fell to the side as he welcomed the darkness that previously threatened to overwhelm him.

* * *

 **A/N:** Like I said before, I have this story planned out, but not written. Next chapter will hopefully clear any confusion and explain the stuff that happened in this chapter in Timmy's and Jay's perspectives. Maybe Bruce's who knows. I don't.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this story, and all of our kind reviews! You all motivated me to finish up this chapter!

 **Rated T: for vague description of injury and language.**

 _Nightwing's arms went lax, and he fell to the side as he welcomed the darkness that previously threatened to overwhelm him._

* * *

Jason was out of breath.

Being the protege of the Dark Knight, he's spent hours straight going through rigorous training and sparring until he passed out, but right now, Jason was panting as he ran down the labyrinth of _endless fucking hallways_ because he was pushing his limits in his brothers were down here, probably doing something stupid, was enough for him to rush to their last location _as quickly as possible._

Jason could see that Tim was probably just as worried as he was, not that either of them would admit. He and Red Robin ran at the same pace, with Batman following close behind watching their backs. All three had activated their night-vision features in they're respective masks to avoid running in the pitch black halls. In Jason's peripheral vision he could see Tim glance at the map on his wrist computer before every sharp turn they took as they ran.

They continued running for a few minutes before they eventually came to a stop at a dividing hallway.

Red Hood looked at Red Robin expectantly.

Pressing a few keys on his wrist computer, Red Robin pulled up the holo-map from earlier before speaking to them, looking back and forth between the hallways. "They definitely went down the right, but past here; they could be anywhere." He closed the computer once again before jogging down the hallway, the Bats close behind.

The _Batfamily Fund,_ as Dickhead called it, allows for a satellite to always keep their tracking devices, comms, and computers connected; however, like most satellites, they have their limits in range. Goldie and Hell-spawn were _god knows how_ many feet under, to where the _million fucking dollar_ satellite couldn't even get a damn trace on his brothers. As soon as they were far out enough, they lost them.

The three bats reached the end of the corridor where the hallways were split once again.

The Red Hood lightly pushed past Red Robin and trained the lenses of his helmet down the halls and activated the infrared feature. Maybe, just maybe, his brothers left a trail of heat they can track.

Nightwing and Robin's last communication had been only twenty minutes before. All three have tried hailing them through the comm since then, but the depth of the sub-levels were interfering with the signal.

With the infrared detector, Jason saw the temperatures the items in sight were giving off. The hallways were blue, indicating that it was cold and unused. Being so deep in the ground and the lack of any ventilation system, the place was like a giant-ass refrigerator. Any heat signature would be long gone at this point.

" _Fuck,"_ he muttered under his breath and deactivating the thermal vision.

"Batman. What are you doing?" Jason looked over at Red Robin wondering what he was referring to. Behind him Batman's fingers were tapping rapidly on the keys of his wrist computer.

Not looking up, Batman continued to work, "I'm attempting to activate UHF radio wave transmitter to wirelessly connect my wrist computer with Nightwing's, assuming we're in close enough proximity to each other to do so; however, the thickness of the walls may interfere with the transmission. We'd have to be close enough."

Jason hesitated, "So like a Bluetooth? If it can find a device, you can track it?"

"Precisely."

"What's the range," Red Robin asked as he glanced between hallways.

"One hundred meters." Before the two could say anything further, Batman turned and sprinted down the hallways, with the others close behind.

* * *

Jonathan Crane surrounded by a circle of his hires welcomed the bitter-cold Gotham night as they made their way out of a building a few miles out of the warehouse they were previously in. A hire opened the back door to a sleek black, dark tinted limo and Crane stepped inside only to meet the face of his employer.

The figure wore black, leather like clothing underneath a large black cloak that wrapped around their body. The hood over their head covered their face. "Did you succeed," the figure asked, not looking up.

Removing his burlap sack, Crane responded, "Of course. Nightwing was injected with the toxin. It is only a matter of time before it takes affect."

"What measures were taken to ensure your concoction will not be detected before then," they continued in a monotonous voice.

"I had a means to mislead them," Crane said as he leaned back into his chair. The figure nodded minutely, encouraging him to continue. "I released an altered version of my original toxin. The toxin in the air has delayed effects, but also a component intended to suppress the agents of the toxin that was directly injected into the boy."

Crane smirked, folding his hands together, "They won't know it until it's too late."

* * *

Tim continued to remain alert as he and Jason followed closely behind Bruce as he made sharp turns as they ran. Although in costume, they weren't heroes at the moment: They were a worried family. The men Jason had listened to earlier suggested that Crane and all of his men were prepared for their arrival, having predicted every move before they made them. He recalled what was relayed to him; _Make the grab? They just need Nightwing?_ They knew exactly where each of them would be and planned accordingly.

Sure, Jonathan Crane was a mad genius, but he was first and foremost a scientist, mostly focused on biochemistry and psychology. Tim just _knew_ there was a higher-up involved.

The detective in him attempted to run through possible options in his head, but the brother continued to drag him down with worry. Whoever was behind this _knew_ how the batfamily operated, otherwise, they wouldn't have been able to predict that Nightwing and Robin would be making the bust while the rest of them remained in stealth outside; they wouldn't have been able to predict Batman's plan so accurately.

Based on Tim's years of experience, he knew kidnapping wasn't Crane's M.O. and having a counter-plan as extensive as this one wasn't either. He also knew that the amount of hires he had throughout the property was far more than he knew he could afford. Gathering as much men as he had, and the amount of weapons would have taken much longer, unless they were paid enough. Crane had just gotten out of Arkham, and he's only been out for a few weeks, yet he possessed the means to create a new formula, and access to a grand facility that must've been built on the down-low for _years._ Whoever it was, they likely had access to a large fund, and they went through all this trouble for _Nightwing._ What could they possibly want with Nightwing, and why did they want Crane to execute their plan?

The blackness of the hallway gradually diminished as they approached the dim light at the end of the corridor, suggesting that there was a wider, illuminated space directly ahead of them.

" _Wake up! You fool!"_ Red Robin quickened his pace as he listened to the distressed plea that echoed through the concrete walls.

The three came to a stop at the entrance of an open doorway that lead to a catwalk that overlooked the wide space. From their level of the catwalk, the rafters that stretched throughout the higher level, and built around the support beans, could be seen.

Looking down, Tim could see the fading reminisce of a pale green fog originating from the center of the room. In the midst of that fog, he make out the silhouette of Robin crouched over a seemingly unconscious Nightwing layed out on the floor.

"Rebreathers. Both of you," Batman said as he placed his own rebreather in his mouth and ran down the rafter closest to the left side of the room. "Hood. You're with me. We may still be able to catch Crane. Red Robin; check on Nightwing and Robin."

As Red Hood ran after Batman, Red Robin jumped down from the rafter above the center of the room and dropped beside his brothers.

Dick was sprawled out on the floor, eyes shut. Unlike their past experiences with fear toxin, Nightwing's face appeared to be relaxed, almost like he was sleeping peacefully and not having the usual fitful nightmares the toxin was known to induce.

Red Robin saw that Robin had too had a rebreather in his mouth. The distress was clearly written on the kid's face as Damian pressed his hands on Dick's shoulders, attempting to shake him awake.

"Robin," Red Robin stated calmly in order to grab the youngest's attention, but he didn't look up. "Robin," he tried again. "You're going to hurt him."

It was likely he already was. Up close, Dick didn't look so good. Although his face was relaxed and seemingly free of pain, angry, dark bruises could be seen on his upper right cheek bone that stretched over to the eye on that side, and a split lip below that. The sleeve on his left arm had a portion torn out, revealing a gun shot wound that appeared to still be bleeding.

Tim cursed under his breath, then checked his pulse with one hand as he pulled pressure bandages from his belt with the other. Robin, surprisingly, didn't protest as Red Robin gently pushed him aside and started dressing the wound.

"Did you administer the anti-toxin," Red Robin asked as he continued to work to stop the bleeding.

He could hear Robin shuffle slightly in his position crouched slightly behind him.

"Yes," he stated after a moment. "Just as father instructed, but why has he not awaken yet? He should be awake, yes?" Panic began to creep into his voice, not that the Demon would admit.

It was times like this that Tim actually thought the kid was adorable. Sure, he tried to keep the tough guy act up all the time, but in reality, he was still a kid; and things like watching your battered brother lie unconscious as he bleeds out is really not something a kid should see. He really emphasized with Damian in that respect. He was worried. They've all seen things they shouldn't have too young. The kid was tough, and they've grown to get along over the past year after Bruce came back. Sure, he was still a little shit, but he was less of a shit.

"I don't know, kid. Did you breathe any of it in," Red Robin asked as he jutted his chin towards the machine that gradually stopped releasing the green fog into the air.

Robin shook his head, "No. I had a spare rebreather and placed it in my mouth before I could. I dropped the one I had earlier." His eyes were trained on Nightwing's face. "I retrieved Nightwing's spare as well, but he had already breathed it in. It would have been useless at that point."

Red Robin nodded. "Are you injured?" Tim prodded Nightwing's chest, assessing his injuries.

Robin shook his head. "I am fine. What about Grayson?"

Raising his brow, Tim considered reprimanding him for using his name on the field. Damian was usually the one yelling at everyone about that. He must've been really panicked for him to slip up. He studied the youngest for any injuries, but he was up and talking so he didn't think any injuries he had were at all life threatening.

"I'm guessing he has a few bruised ribs. A few cracked. Two broken at the most." Red Robin trained his eyes on Nightwing's face, then pressed two fingers on the right side of his neck, checking for a pulse once again. "I don't know why he isn't waking up. Pulse is normal." As he pulled his fingers away from his neck, his eyes caught sight of a small red dot, leaving a thin line of blood trailing down the left side of his neck, surrounded by a pale bruise about an inch and a half in diameter.

Tim's eyes widened slightly behind his mask. " _Shit,_ Robin. Did you inject him in the neck?" Injecting directly into the neck could be potentially dangerous. If Damian accidentally incorrectly punctured one of Dick's carotid ateries, he could've bled out, or prevented blood from flowing to his brain.

Damian was physically taken back. "What?! Of course not! I _told_ you; I injected him as father instructed! I injected him _here_ ," he held his arm out, palm up, gestering to the crook of his elbow to demonstrate where he administered the anti-toxin. " _Crane's_ men did that!"

Brows furrowed, Red Robin attempted to wake his brother up. Pulling a small light from his belt, Tim used his right hand to hold open Dick's eyelid as the other shinned the light to test pupil reaction.

"Concussion. Minor one by the looks of it. Why'd they inject him when they had an already airborne toxin?" Putting the light back in it's place, Red Robin placed a hand on either side of Nightwing's face as he lightly slapped him.

"Come on, buddy. Wake up. You're freaking Robin out." Beside him, Robin scoffed. Tim didn't have to turn around to know he probably crossed his arms and was pouting.

For a few minutes, Red Robin continued to attempt to awaken his brother, even bringing out smelling salts, as Robin sat closely behind, but to no avail.

"You're not hitting him hard enough." The two looked up to see Red Hood crouch beside them.

"I don't want to hurt him," Red Robin stated, brows furrowed in annoyance.

Jason scoffed, "He looks like shit. He's going to be hurting anyways." Before either of them could stop him, Jason wound his open palm back and launched it downwards onto Dick's face.

A loud, _SMACK!_ echoed throughout the walls of the large space.

" _Hey!_ Jay, what the _fuck?!"_ Red Robin exclaimed as he caught Red Hood's hand before he could release another powerful slap on Nightwing's unsuspecting face.

The Red Hood turned towards Red Robin, his hand still lifted above his face and Tim's hand still holding it in place, "You got a better idea, _Replacement,"_ he growled in more annoyance than anger.

Reluctantly, Tim released his hand, and Jason released another powerful slap.

Thankfully this time, Nightwing sat up upon impact.

" _Holy_ -! _Gah,_ " Dick used one hand to cup the right side of his face, where Jason had just slapped him into next week.

* * *

 _Ha,_ Jason thought as he smiled smugly as he removed his helmet, seeing as the fog cleared up. _I knew that would work._ He turned towards Tim as if to say, "I told you so."

Nightwing now sat upright, his legs out straight out in front of him. Dick blinked rapidly and looked around, his eyes finding his brothers.

A look of pure confusion crossed his features, replaced almost instantly with a grimace in pain as he doubled over and crossed his arms over his chest, grabbing at this midsection.

Red Hood and Red Robin grabbed his shoulders on either side, easing his grip on himself. "Hey, calm down," Tim began calmly. "You may have broken a rib or two. Don't move too much." Together, they maneuvered him to lean back onto a leg of one of the tables.

Dick whined over dramatically, as he tried to calm his erratic breathing. " _Holy_ _mother of -_ Was I...hit by a...semi," he struggled between breaths.

" _-tt-"_ All three of them looked to Damian. "Do you really think a semi could fit down here? That car must have hit you pretty hard," he smiled slightly as he removed the rebreather from his mouth, probably deeming it safe after Jason removed his helmet.

Beside him Tim snorted, and Jason himself tried not to laugh. _Did the kid really just tell a_ joke? That's fucking adorable.

All three remained on the floor, semi-surrounding Nightwing as he shifted in an attempt to alleviate the pressure on his ribs. Jason looked back at Dick, whose eyes were wide in astonishment. " _Robin,_ did you really just...you did. You _did._ " Dick blinked a few more times. "That was _funny._ You told a _joke._ "

Red Robin shook his head and rolled his eyes fondly at his older brother's antics. "Red Hood, where's Batman?"

"He'll be here in a minute. We found another access tunnel hidden behind a wall of crates," he gestured in the general direction of where Batman was. "We tried following Crane's escape route, but he's long gone. Bats sent me back to check on you."

As if on cue, Batman jumped down from a high stack of crates and looked down on his sons. His gaze shifted to all of them. "Are you all alright," he asked as he took a knee beside Nightwing.

"Just peachy, Bats," Jason responded sarcastically.

Batman ignored the sarcasm, and furrowed his brows, "Why are you all not wearing your rebreathers? This area was just infested with toxin," he practically growled.

"Relax, Bats," Jason began as he stood up. "The three of us took them off after it seemed like it was all cleared."

Batman glowered even further, now looking up at his second son from his crouched position beside Nightwing. " _Seemed_ clear. Residual chemicals may still be in the air."

Jason waved his hand dismissively, "Relax, we're more than likely fine. Even if we _did_ breath it in, we should be fine. Dickface looks fine to me," he gestured to Nightwing still leaning his back on the table.

" _Yup,"_ Dick stated with gritted teeth. " _Peachy..._ Absolutely," Dick forced a smile through clenched teeth, but it looked pained rather than reassuring. His failed attempt to lighten the mood was almost humorous, if it were not for the situation, Batman may have smiled, but probably not.

* * *

Looking at his battered son, Bruce placed a hand on the shoulder of his uninjured arm, and placed two fingers on the side of his neck, and flashing a light in his eyes, following the same check-up routine Tim had done only minutes before, only this time asking a plethora of questions as he tried to completely assess the extent of his injuries. Grabbing his chin, Bruce turned Dick's face completely to one side, now studying the bruise on his neck.

Dick attempted to wave him off the entire time. "I'm fine," he said as he focused on the lenses of Batman's mask. A look that said, _stop worrying._

Batman glared, then stood up, Red Robin and Robin following suit. Batman's eyes looked at his youngest son. He focused his gaze on him to access injuries. Aside from heavy bruising and a split lip on his face, he seemed relativity fine. He noticed his tense stance and took note to have Alfred access his injuries further when they arrived home. "Robin, go out ahead and prepare the Batmobile. Alert Agent A that we need him to treat injuries and prepare a toxicity test."

Robin nodded tersely before running in the direction of the door.

The Dark Knight turned back to his sons. "Help him outside. I'll remain here and collect samples."

Red Hood and Red Robin stood on either side of Nightwing and gently hoisted him up and positioned him where he had either arm on either of his brother's shoulders.

Red Hood shifted his position in an attempt to make him more comfortable. "You're lucky we even found you two as soon as we did," he said as they began to walk at a slow pace towards the door.

Nightwing's brows furrowed in confusion, "Why didn't you just follow the lights in the hallways?"

Red Hood exchanged a look with Red Robin. "What do you mean? what lights," Red Robin asked studying his brother's face.

"The emergency lights down the hallways. That's what me and Damian were following to get down here."

Shaking his head, Red Hood slowed his pace more to match Nightwing's. "Wing, there were no lights. It was completely dark heading down here."

Nightwing hummed in thought. "That's weird. Maybe Crane turned them off to stall you all from getting to us."

"Probably just enough time to stab that needle into you and then gas up the room," Jason said absentmindedly. "Which begs the question: Why the fuck aren't you flipping your shit? Didn't Crane just shoot you up with drugs?"

Nightwing rolled his eyes. "Jay, you make it sound like i'm on drugs."

"I meaaaan -" Jason began, but Nightwing cut him off before he could continue. "I don't know, alright. Whatever he gave me, it's probably not working. Good news for us, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Batman listened to his sons conversation up until they left the area. Looking at the contents of the table, the World's Greatest Detective began to collect samples and placing them into his belt. Pulling out a miniature camera, he took pictures of larger items, and stashing any papers left around.

Jonathan Crane was no idiot. He was an experienced chemist who, by the looks of it, had every means to create a concoction more extensive than anything he's ever made before. Whatever toxin he created would not have simply _failed._

He was going to get to the bottom of this, then he was going to chastise his oldest son for being so _damn careless._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I'd like to thank the guest reviewers whom I cannot privately message. You're awesome!

The scene was lightweight inspired by a scene from Batman: Bad Blood. You'll know it when you read it.

 **Rated T: Drug induced angst/violence and language.**

 _He was going to get to the bottom of this, then he was going to yell at his oldest son for being so damn careless._

* * *

It was determined that they would have their mission debrief in the cave, where they were usually held. Batman, Robin and Nightwing took the Batmobile, while Red Hood took his own bike, and Red Robin drove Nightwing's bike back to the cave, seeing as the owner was in no condition to drive it himself.

Alfred stood in the center lobby of the Batcave, where the Bat-computer was located, awaiting with an observation table set up with medical supplies as soon as they arrived. He figured it would be more timely to handle both the mission debrief and tend to any injuries simultaneously.

Tim went off to the changing room, while Jason remained in his uniform because he would be riding back to his apartment immediately after the debrief. He leaned on one side of the computer console as Bruce, now with his cowl pulled down, connected his wrist computer to the computer console and began downloading the data he collected.

All of the vigilantes of the night removed their respective masks as soon as they entered the cave, once again becoming their civilian aliases. Dick and Damian sat side by side on the observation tables as Alfred assessed their injuries. He began by ordering Dick to remove the top of his uniform so he could start stitching up the bullet graze on his left arm, but not before acquiring a blood sample and handing it to Bruce.

"The blood test should be ready in about fifteen minutes. Try to keep calm before then, and let me know if you feel any changes. The anti-toxin Damian gave you was a generic one, we don't know how well it worked," Bruce instructed as he placed the blood sample on the scanner of the console panel of the Bat-computer.

"Way ahead of you, B," Dick began nonchalantly. "I am the pinnacle of 'chill.'" He smiled brightly, "I feel normal. Very bruised and sore, but normal. Well, as normal as our normal gets," he added as an afterthought.

Dick managed to sit patiently for about two minutes before he began swinging his feet off the table like a small child.

"Master Dick, do hold still. You are making this much more difficult than it need be," Alfred said as he paused suturing Dick's bullet wound and began giving him a stern look. On the other side of the room, Jason could be heard coughing something that sounded vaguely like, " _What a three year old_."

Dick smirked looking at Jason then turned back to Alfred, looking at him innocently, as he lifted his right arm and gave a mock salute, "Aye, Captain!"

Alfred fondly rolled his eyes, then turned to Damian sitting beside Dick on the table as he continued suturing the wound.

"Young man," The family butler began. "I will require you to remove the top half of your uniform as well."

Damian tensed for a moment, "I believe you should complete tending to Dick, Pennyworth."

Dick was eyeing his little brother closely, as were the other three in the room. Damian's jaw was clenched as he glared daggers at the floor.

"You know that is not how it works, young man."

Robin paused for a moment before reluctantly unclasping his hooded cape. After pausing for another moment, the eleven-year old began to unclasp the front armor and remove his top.

"Woah," Tim said incredulously, just having entered the room and seeing Damian.

The rest of them had similar reactions. His entire family gaped at the dark bruises that marked the youngest's chest. It was a mess of dark, purple and yellowing bruises, the darkest being on his left side.

Dick beside him stared wide eyed, mouth slightly agape, before clenching his eyes and raising his right hand to rub his eyes in shame. "No, no, no, _no_ ," he groaned.

Alfred prodded his chest and deemed that Damian had cracked three ribs on his left side, no internal bleeding, and Dick slouched as much as his own damaged ribs would allow him as he looked up at Damian with guilt filled eyes. "Dami, I'm so sorry. This is my fault. Why didn't you say anything?"

Damian scoffed at him. "The fault is mine alone. If I had fought better-" Bruce cut him off immediately as he approached the table, staring at his child's injuries.

"Nightwing," Batman began, not bothering to call him by his actual name. "I want to hear everything. _Now,_ " he practically growled in his Batman voice.

Alfred cut the final stitching on Dick's wound, placed the scissors down and reached for the medical tape.

As Dick began talking, Alfred ordered Damian to lift his arms, and the injured boy hissed in pain.

Dick looked to Damian with pity as he began to describe in detail everything that occurred from the moment Robin left Batman's side to rendezvous with Nightwing.

Once they reached the sub-levels of the building, Dick recalled the moment Batman had told him not to engage. Not knowing the circumstances of the order, Nightwing assumed if he believed it was safe to engage, that he should seize the opportunity. He also described how Robin warned him that Batman said not to engage, but Nightwing refused and Robin moved on his order. After he had initiated the attack, Nightwing described how he and Robin were separated, then he realized the crates were used to harbor men.

After he had blocked the only other entrance in the facility, Nightwing ran towards Jonathan Crane's location, only to find Damian had been captured and appeared to be injured. Dick looked down guiltily at the mention of leading his brother into a trap.

Damian glared at the side of his head, not wanting, nor needing his pity.

He then recited exactly what Crane had said to them, then continued on to the point where he asked about the aerosol contraption.

"He said it was his 'escape plan.' Then a man from behind me injected me with his supposed _new formula_ ," he said the last part gesturing his fingers to make air quotations. "I'm not entirely sure what happened after that," he trailed off and looked to Damian to complete the story.

Damian coughed as if to clear his throat and sat up straighter, ignoring the pain in his chest as he did so. "After Nightwing was incapacitated, I was presented with the opportunity to either pursue Crane and his men as they made their escape, or assist Nightwing." Damian paused before continuing. "The green fog, which at the time I assumed to be fear toxin, engulfed the area. I placed my spare rebreather in my mouth and ran to Nightwing's aid with the intention of doing the same for him; however, as I reached him, he was completely engulfed in the fog, and I saw no point. Instead, I injected him with the anti-toxin provided in my belt and injected him as instructed." He spoke as if reciting from an encyclopedia.

"Afterwards, I attempted to awaken him, but all of my attempts were futile." He turned in the direction of Jason, where he continued to lean on the control panel, Tim doing the same a few feet beside him. "Then Drake arrived and provided an impromptu medical examination. Shortly after, Todd arrived and was able to successfully awaken him."

"Yup, I remember _that_ ," Dick said more to himself as he absentmindedly rubbed his face where Jason had slapped him.

"So, that's what Scarecrow meant by his 'escape plan,'" Tim said from beside Jason. "He probably knew you'd go and help Dick rather than chase him."

Jason nodded minutely as he crossed one arm over his chest as the other hand rubbed his chin in thought. "Sounds like it, but what exactly did it _do?_ "

Dick shrugged, his eyes not leaving the floor. "Maybe it didn't do anything," he said quietly.

Even though Dick wasn't looking at him, Bruce was glaring daggers at his oldest son.

"Let me get this straight," he ground out. All of the men in the room turned to look at him, a slight, hidden fearful look on their faces as they could practically _feel_ the Batman coming through. "You _deliberately_ disobeyed me. After I had _explicitly_ told you _not_ to engage, that is _exactly_ what you did."

"Yes, sir," Dick nodded, still glaring at the floor.

"You engaged, _even after_ Robin had warned you that you'd be disobeying a direct order," he stepped closer to the examination table in the middle of the room, now only about five feet away from it.

Another nod.

"You engaged not having full knowledge of the circumstances of my order."

"Yes."

"Did you even bother running a thermal scan of the room, to determine if there was more men than you can see, or access the contents of the crates: Both of which directly correlated with each other and would have been essential knowledge prior to engagement?" Bruce was on the verge of yelling now, and Dick continued to glare at the floor.

"No, sir."

"As a result of your _careless_ actions, Robin was cornered and attacked by more men than you had originally anticipated. He was completely _outnumbered_ and you left him to fight them off _alone._ "

Dick's eyes were wide now staring at the floor, as he began to breathe heavily.

Tim attempted to step in and diffuse the situation, if only slightly, only to be silently stopped by Jason. It was best for times like this for Bruce to let his anger run it's course.

"He then was overwhelmed, then incapacitated, which resulted in you having to drop your weapons and surrender."

Bruce didn't even bother pausing to let him answer. "And as a result, _you_ were injected with Crane's knew formula and _he managed to escape._ "

Dick had trouble speaking with the lump in his throat. Guilt was overwhelming him. Everything Bruce was saying was entirely correct and he deserved any punishment Bruce was going to give him.

At that moment, even without the cowl, Bruce was Batman. He stood only two feet away and scowled down at his son, "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Dick looked up and met his father's eyes. While Bruce's eyes were filled with anger, only guilt and regret could be seen in Dick's.

They stared at each other for a moment, Bruce studying every detail of his son's face, whereas Dick was trying to simply concentrate on Bruce's eyes. Although he was asked to make eye contact, Dick was only thinking about all the mistakes he made that night _,_ and how his actions caused Crane to escape and his baby brother to be injured. They had failed.

"I want a full report on my desk in the morning. Damian," he looked at his son, who was sitting awkwardly beside Dick as he received a lecture. "Go get changed."

Bruce helped Damian step down from the table and together they headed off to the changing rooms.

Alfred began to access Dick's other injuries and deemed that he had a fractured rib, and four cracked, most likely coming from the blunt trauma of the bat he was bludgeoned with, and treated him accordingly.

The man the boys saw as a grandfather placed his hand on Dick's uninjured shoulder as he finished patching him up. "My dear boy, he will come around."

Dick continued to stare wide eyed, but blankly at the ground. Assuming he had heard him, Alfred left him to ponder to himself as he headed up the stairs, promising to clean up the medical supplies after he served the boys a late night snack.

* * *

Jason and Tim exchanged glances as Dick sat by himself in the center of the room on the examination table. The two brothers noted how Dick's breath was short, as he continued to stare off into space.

" _Fuck,_ " Jason began in an attempt to lighten the mood. " _That_ was brutal. Dickie-bird, you don't normally take shit from Bruce that easily." It was true. Jason recalled a time where Bruce and Dick were at each other's throats in screaming matches. Normally, either he or Tim would be caught in the middle of it. Of course, that was years ago and before Damian came into the picture. By now, they've pretty much settled their differences, and refrained from arguing, especially in front of Damian.

Jason looked at Tim, and his younger brother shook his head slightly, silently telling him to let him be for a while. The anti-hero rolled his eyes, and Tim sighed as he sat down at the main chair in front of the computer, skimming over the files Batman had collected on Crane and waiting for the results of Dick's blood test.

Feeling completely out of character, because come on, he could be sensitive if he wanted to, Jason approached Dick and punched him lightly on his uninjured arm, "Hey, don't let it get to your head, Dickie-bird. You know Bruce: ever the angry old _hag_." He sighed heavily after Dick didn't laugh.

"It happens, Dick. He'll come around," Jason said quietly to his brother.

He didn't appear to have heard him. Deeming his attempt at comfort to be futile, Jason released a heavy sigh and began walking towards the loading dock of the cave, back to his bike. Mission over: he just wanted to go beat a few more baddies before he headed to his place.

Jason only managed to make it five feet away before he heard a quiet voice from behind him.

" _I'm so sorry_."

Confused, Jason turned back around to see Dick still not having moved from his position. He paused for a moment, thinking that Dick was still thinking about tonight. He paused and studied his brother before responding. "Hey," he began. "Like I said; just wait it out, he'll -," he managed before Dick cut him off.

"You died."

Jason was physically taken back. _What the fuck is he talking about,_ he thought. _This was old news._ "...Dick?"

"You died because I wasn't there for you when I should have been, and I'm _so sorry_."

Jason turned to look at Tim, who was also studying Dick. Slowly standing up from the computer desk, Tim slowly made his way over to the panel of the console with the pending blood test. He must've thought the same thing: the fear toxin.

Just as Tim was approaching the console, Jason approached Dick slowly, and spoke to him like he would a child, "Dick, can you hear me?"

Dick blinked a few times before responding. "Yeah... Jay, Damian could have died today. I gave the order to engage. Jason, I could've _killed_ him. I...I _did_ kill him. _Oh god."_ At the last word, Dick began sobbing, and grasping his hair tightly as he leaned forward where he was seated.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit. This has to be fear toxin,_ he thought frantically _._ Jason closed the distance between the two of them and grabbed his shoulders gently, forcing his older brother to look at him.

"Dick, hey, _hey_. Look at me." Jason grasped both shoulders and forced his brother to look him in the eyes, but Dick continued to stare wide eyed seemingly right through him.

"Tim," Jason turned to his younger brother. "Go get Bruce, _now,_ " he said as calmly as possible, as if not to cause any further stress on the situation.

As Jason turned his head to look at Dick once again, he found the air knocked out of his lungs as he was roughly kicked back.

"What the _fuck!"_ He exclaimed as he righted himself.

Dick had kicked Jason in the chest and forced him back a few feet. _The mother-fuck-_ Jason was about to voice his thoughts out loud until he realized he was staring at the barrel of a gun.

When Jason had his head turned, Dick must've reached into the inside of his jacket, where two holsters were located, and grabbed his gun. Dick held the gun in his right hand, his left hand slowly reaching towards the sharp objects on the medical cart.

"Get _away_ from me," Dick said almost desperately.

"'Wing," Jason said as he took a small step forward.

"No!" Dick then lifted the gun and pressed it to his own temple.

" _Shit!_ " Tim exclaimed fearfully observing the situation.

Instantly, Jason raised his hands in a placating gesture. Not looking away from his brother, Jason kept his hands up and addressed Tim, " _Relax._ Get Bruce. _Relax..."_ Reluctantly, Tim moved slowly and purposefully to the changing rooms.

"Dick, hey, _hey_. Look at me." Jason holds both his hands up in a placating gesture, and speaks in a calm voice as if speaking to a child.

When Bruce had come back from the dead, and Jason began to work with Batman more, they had an agreement that the Red Hood would no longer use lead bullets. Rubber bullets, at close proximity and aimed to kill could still be lethal, and has been known to make kill shots. Along with that agreement, Jason had agreed not to bring loaded guns into the cave. Before dismounting from his cycle, Jason made sure the clips were not loaded. The guns were not armed with bullets, but he wasn't going to tell Dick that.

Now standing, Dick stood beside the examination table. Directly beside it was the medical cart, fully stalked with Kevlar scissors, scalpels...just, a lot of _sharp_ objects. _Really sharp_ objects, and Dick was slowly inching his way towards it, his hand only inches from the closet scalpel. If the gun didn't kill him, which it _couldn't_ at that point, Dick still had a means to hurt himself before either of them could stop him. He was not going to risk telling Dick that the gun was unloaded.

Dick was not in the right state of mind. This is what must have been different about this fear toxin: It had a delayed, rather than instantaneous affect!

"Dick, this isn't you. _Please,_ listen to me." Jason was practically begging.

Tim called out to the changing room for Bruce, but does not let the fear he is feeling creep into his voice, as if not to excite Dick.

Jason tried to come closer yet again, but he just cocked the gun. The other hand is reached for the a particularly large pair of Kevlar scissors and grasped them by the blade. " _Don't._ Don't come any closer. _Please_."

Jason stops in his place, his hands still up in front of him.

"I couldn't protect you. I couldn't protect Damian. Now _he's dead._ " Dick was visibly shaking.

"Dick, _listen to me_! Damian is _fine_. He's perfectly fine. He's okay! Everyone is okay!" Jason exclaimed frantically.

Dick's eyes remained wide and full of sorrow. "No! You're lying. I can _see_ him!"

Jason didn't even bother to turn and look in the direction Dick was looking in because he knew the only thing there was the Bat-computer.

From behind Dick, Jason could see Bruce reenter the room from the changing rooms, with Damian and Tim closely beside them. Both the new arrivals eyes were wide and their brows were furrowed in both fear and confusion, while Tim began pacing over to the med lab.

"Dick. You have to trust me. Put the gun down. We fought Scarecrow tonight? Do you remember that?" He continued, not even bothering to allow an answer, "He gave you something. You're seeing things. We are all fine!"

"What if Tim dies because of me too? I...I can't' let that happen, Jason. I _can't._ "

"And you're not gonna, Dick. You're going to protect him, like you always do, but you have to be _alive_ to do that. _We_ need you alive, Dick."

Bruce exchanged a look with him from over Dick's shoulder, as if asking Jason if the gun is loaded. Jason shook his head. As he did so, Bruce began creeping towards the table Dick stood by, and Jason furiously shook his head, then jut his head towards Dick's other hand on the medical supplies. Even if Dick can't shoot himself, he could still be a danger to himself with all the sharp objects. Even now, the anti-hero could see blood steadily streaming from Dick's palm as he grasped the blade of the scissors for dear life.

Jason slowly inched towards the table with every waking moment. "Damian is alive. Tim is alive. _I_ am alive, and we're going to stay that way for a long time."

"Stop!" Dick removed his hand from the table and grasped the sides of his head, with the gun still in his hand. "Please, _stop!_ Stop lying!"

That was his cue.

As soon as his hand left the table, Jason ran at him, as Bruce did the same from behind. As Jason knocked Dick off the table and away from the medical supplies, Bruce caught them from the other side.

Jason removed the gun from his hand as Bruce struggled to hold Dick as he thrashed around in his arms.

"Let me _go_ ," he screamed as he thrashed around, seemingly ignoring his injuries.

He was wailing, and screaming and so in _distress._ Jason held is legs down to stop him from kicking as Bruce held down arms.

Tim ran out of the medical bay, after having grabbed a sedative and knelt down beside them as he pushed a syringe into Dick's arm. The sedative quickly took effect as his screams died down into sobs, until he completely passed out.

They were all breathing heavily, both from holding Dick down, and the adrenaline beginning to leave their systems.

Panting, Jason exchanged looks with Bruce, then Tim beside him. They all looked from each other to the now unconscious boy in Bruce's arms. All had similar expressions of shock on their faces.

Jason studied his older brother's face, and saw that his eyebrows were furrowed in pain, only slightly panting from the excitement less than a minute before. From his position, he turned to look at Damian.

Damian was in the same spot as before, his eyes were still wide in fear looking at the unconscious form of his brother, his mentor. Jason wondered what was going through the poor kid's head.

* * *

 **A/N:** Next chapter will be this scene, but in Damian's perspective. In this chapter, I kept the POV general in the beginning, then switched to Jason's, if ya didn't catch on. I barely did.


	7. Chapter 7

**Rated T: Drug induced angst/violence and language.**

 _Damian was in the same spot as before, his eyes were still wide in fear looking at the unconscious form of his brother, his mentor. Jason wondered what was going through the poor kid's head._

* * *

The Boy Wonder felt completely exposed in front of his family at the moment. Still seated on the medical table at the center lobby of the Batcave, he wore only the bottom half of his uniform and his entire torso was wrapped tightly, covered in stark white bandages, with bruising still peeking out from underneath. He sat only inches away from Grayson as Father continued to scold him for his carelessness.

Damian couldn't help but feel self conscious. He had received injuries before, but he was normally good at preventing them when fighting small name baddies. He had taken down _supervillians_ three times his size and still received minimal injury, yet he was able to receive broken bones and heavy bruising from ordinary men. It was preposterous! Never had he felt more incompetent, so he couldn't help but wonder why Father had yet to direct his anger at him.

Damian did not believe Grayson fully deserved all of the fault of the failures of the mission. He sat silently beside his former mentor as the man received a scolding from his current one.

Yes, Grayson had made a bad call, but surely Father knew that it was made on reasonable grounds. True, Grayson did not think to run a thermal scan, but neither had Damian. After all, Grayson was not the only one on the mission, but he as well.

They _both_ had jumped into action before fully analyzing their surroundings. They _both_ had willingly separated and was unable to assist the other. They _both_ were unable to adapt to their surroundings, and Crane had escaped as a combination of _both_ of their failures.

To receive full blame was simply unjust, yet Damian allowed himself to remain silent. So badly had Damian wanted to jump in to tell Father that it was not Grayson's fault - that he was being too hard on him - but he couldn't find the words. Never had he seen Father so angry and so angry at Grayson.

He sat there silently because he did not know what else to do. Would it be wrong to interrupt Father, even though what he was saying is accurate? Is it wrong _not_ to interrupt because the way he was speaking was wrongfully forceful? Should he stand up for his previous mentor; for his brother, even if Father was correct?

Damian settled for silence and focused his eyes everywhere but Father.

Sitting tensely and uncomfortably as if on display on the medical table, Damian turned his head to study his brother. Beside him, Bludhaven's hero was visibly tensed as if trying not to shake in his seat. His forehead and the exposed parts of his chest not covered in bandages glistened with sweat. His chest rose and fell quickly, but unsteadily, as if trying not to hyperventilate, his eyes wide staring at the floor.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." Damian tensed even further at Father's words. Even without the cowl, Father was Batman at the present moment. He stood only two feet away but still managed to tower over Grayson, the anger almost palpable in the air.

While Grayson met Father's eyes with sadness, the Batman countered it with anger. Damian wanted to reach out and comfort his older brother. Did Father not see Grayson was on the verge of panic?

The two stared at each other for a moment. The other occupants of the cave stilled with baited breath as they awaited for the next person to speak. The only sounds were from Grayson's shallow breathing and the distant echoe of bats in the depths of the cave.

"I want a full report on my desk in the morning." The bystanders in the cave all released a simultaneous sigh of relief as Father broke the silence. "Damian. Go get changed."

As he began to attempt to dismount from the table, Father came beside he injured boy and assisted him. He wanted so badly to hide away. _Great,_ he thought. _Father must think of me to be so incompetent._ Father continued to walk beside him, a hand lightly grasping his arm for support, as they headed to the changing rooms, which were down the hallway on the opposite side of the circular floor, behind Grayson.

Down the short hallway to the changing area, the room opened up to reveal a low ceiling, but widely spaced room. The space was divided into smaller sections consisting of various shelves, showers, and changing rooms. The flooring was smoothed out and glossed over version of the natural floor, and the walls kept accents from the dark rocks of the cave. All along the walls, hallowed parts were filled with dark wooden finished shelves that held the vigilantes uniforms and utilities, as well as spare civilian clothing. Todd had jokingly once stated that this area reminded him of a darker, Gothic version of a locker room of some ridiculous NBA team.

Father had released his hold on his arm and Damian began to walk toward the shelves that held his post-patrol clothing.

Damian felt a hand on his arm once again, and he turned towards the source. "I'll get it," Father said as he opened a compartment and pulled out a pair of black jogger sweat pants and a loose, gray hoodie.

Putting the items into his hands, Father directed him towards the door of a changing room. "I'll wait out here." Already, he turned away and walked towards another shelf.

Minding his injuries, Damian changed into the clothes given to him and in less than two minutes he exited the changing room. Outside seated on one of the cushioned benches in the center, Father, who was already out of his suit and dressed in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants, was hunched over in his seat waiting, a cup of water in the seat beside him.

Had Father waited for him so that he could receive his turn of a scolding? With a silent gulp, Damian stood up straighter and approached the bench.

Having heard him move, Father picked up the cup beside him and held it out to Damian. Taking the cup, the nervous boy sat down on his Father's left. Silently, the same man held out his hand revealing two small red pills.

Raising an eyebrow, Damian gave his Father a questioning look. "Pain killers. I figured you're not not very comfortable." The _I know you're in pain_ was left unsaid.

"I am fine, Father," he responded as calmly as he could.

"I wasn't asking," Father coolly stated as he placed the pills in his smaller hands.

Not that Damian would admit, but the pain in his chest was excruciating, even though he tried his best to hide it. The tightly wrapped bandages helped alleviate the pain while simultaneously replacing it by adding immense pressure on his chest.

With a small thanks, Damian placed the pills in his mouth and downed the small cup of water.

"Are you angry with me, Father," Damian asked after a moment.

He turned to meet his Father's eyes expecting the anger he had seen only minutes before with Grayson, but instead his own eyes was met with a look of surprise.

"Why would I be angry with you?"

It was Damian's turn to be surprised. "I allowed myself to be captured, and Scarecrow escaped. The mission was a failure, Father."

The man beside him relaxed slightly. "It was," he stated plainly. "However, it was not your fault."

 _-tt-_ "Not my..." Damian shook his head angrily as he stood up, but still turned towards his Father. "It is just as much my fault as it is Grayson's."

Father sighed heavily, but remained calm in demeanor, his hands clasped in front of him as he rested his elbows on his knees. "There are many ways this night could have gone. We could spend hours talking about all of the possible 'what-if's, but it will not alter the past. I had given Nightwing an explicit order, and he being in command, chose to ignore it. Not only that, he chose to engage without fully assessing his surroundings." Father unclasped his hands and sat up straighter. "There were unforeseen circumstances, yes, but it could have been far worse."

With a heavy sigh, Father stood up and gently placed his hand on his shoulders and met Damian's eyes. "I am not blaming either of you for what happened tonight. Both of you could have done more, yes. But factors in which you could not have changed must also be taken into account: things that neither of you could have changed."

Father was not making any sense. "I don't...I don't understand." The man in front of him tilted his head slightly as if asking him to continue. "Why did you get so angry at Grayson?"

Releasing the grip on his shoulders, Father sighed and look away. He hesitated a moment before continuing. "Because he should know better."

Damian furrowed his brows slightly as he felt himself fill with anger. "That does not justify why you were so angry," he exclaimed. As soon as the words left his mouth, he immediately regretted it; however, he did not apologize. Instead, he turned his head away and awaited for Father to scold him for raising his voice.

But Father did not yell at him. Instead, he guided him so they sat side by side on the bench once again. Father sighed another heavy sigh before continuing. "Dick...I've watched him grow up. I've raised him. He is my son, just as much as you are."

With time, the youngest Wayne came to truly understand that. Damian recalled a time where he resented when Father referred to the others as his "sons." Mother had raised him to believe that blood was the only thing that made that tie; however, after living with his family for as long as he has, he realized that was far from the truth. In his short time in Gotham, he has learned that blood does not make a family, but the relationships forged from caring for others more than himself. He truly... _loved_ his new life in Gotham, and he loved his family. He would never admit it to them though. He had to keep some level of superiority - he was an al'Ghul after all, and he appreciated having this angle to tease his brothers with.

"Dick made mistakes tonight. You did as well." Damian turned looked down in shame as Father voiced aloud his own thoughts. "However," Father continued. "Dick's mistakes had a greater impact on the mission as a whole. He's the oldest, and I trusted him to make the right decisions. I took Dick in when he was eight, and Alfred and I have raised him since then. I've taught him everything I know, so when he doesn't think things through, as I have taught him - when he acts solely on impulse, not like a 'gut feeling,' _and_ the consequences result in you getting hurt as you did, I get upset."

Father looked down sadly, "I admit, I was a bit hard on him, but when he continues to make the same mistakes, even at this age, I don't know how else to get through to him." He paused for a moment, as if reflecting on the event that occurred only minutes before. "I was hard on him," he admitted. "I allowed myself to get angry...I guess...I guess I was upset that you were hurt - that both of you were hurt." He looked him in the eyes and continued to speak with sincerity, "I care about him, I do. I care about all of you. You're my sons, but I cannot allow you all to continue to make the same mistakes. Especially in our field of work, when the consequences could mean life or death."

Damian felt himself relax, content with his Father's reasoning. They both looked away to ponder on each other's words. They fell into a comfortable silence for a minute before Damian spoke up. "Father," he said quietly. They met each others eyes once again. "I believe you should apologize to Grayson," he said firmly.

Surprisingly, Father allowed a small smile to grace his lips. "I figured you'd say that, son. I agree. We don't argue often. Not any -," before he was able to finish, Drake's voice filled the room, coming from down the corridor back into the lobby of the cave.

"Bruuuuuce," came the shaky voice that echoed through the room. "C-can you, um, come in here? _Please_. Now." What did the fool, Drake, want now? And when did he develop a stutter? _Hmph_ , Drake was becoming more and more incompetent by the day.

After the two who occupied the changing area exchanged a puzzled look with each other, they both got up and walked towards his voice. As they approached the end of the long, brightly lit hallway, Drake could be seen standing by the archway that lead to the main room. Loud, panicked voices could be heard from the lobby, but the vastness of the cave caused them to sound muffled and Damian strained to hear what they were saying.

"...lying! I can see him," Grayson's voice echoed in the long hallway.

Immediately, the Dynamic Duo began to pick up the pace. Father entered the room first, with Damian closely behind. What they saw made them both stop in their tracks. Grayson, now standing had his back facing them, a gun clearly pointed at his temple! Damian felt his heart quicken in pace almost instantaneously. _What in the hell!_ A look of confusion, and fear made its way onto his face as he attempted to assess the situation.

 _What is Grayson doing_?!

In his perephrial vision, Damian saw Tim hastily make his way over towards the medical lab, but his focus remained on his brother.

It was Todd who was attempting to talk the panicked man down. Unlike Grayson, Todd's face was facing his. They made brief eye contact before Todd looked back at Grayson, his face calm as he spoke to him like a child. "Dick. You have to trust me. Put the gun down. We fought Scarecrow tonight. Do you remember that?" He continued, not bothering to allow an answer. "He gave you something. You're seeing things. We are all fine!"

Grayson was clearly in distress. His body shook as he took large, but quick breaths, a gun pressed to his temple in his right hand. His left remained on the table; however, it clearly was grasping something tightly.

"What if Tim dies because of me too," he asked in a small voice. "I...I can't let that happen, Jason. I _can't_."

The Boy Wonder's thoughts were going a mile per minute. _Was...was this about earlier? The mission? The debrief afterwards? Was he angry? Where did Grayson even find a gun?! Why was he pointing it at himself?!_

"What if Tim dies because of me too? I...I can't let that happen, Jason. I can't."

Damian was frozen in place. _What does Grayson mean by that?_

Damian allowed himself to see past his panic to think relatively clearly. _What is happening?_

 _Was Grayson going to...kill..._

No. He wasn't.

He wouldn't.

Grayson could not -

He _would not_.

"And you're not gonna, Dick," Todd said desperately. "You're going to protect him, like you always do, but you have to be _alive_ to do that. _We_ need you alive, Dick."

He noticed Father begin to slowly approach the table. It was then Damian saw Todd minutely jut his head towards Grayson's hand that wasn't holding that dreadful weapon. The left hand that he saw grasping something only minutes before was now steadily dripping thick, crimson blood onto the floor. Grayson must have grabbed hold of the medical supplies still lying on the table. His older brother had multiple means to harm himself, and Damian found it hard to breathe.

Todd began to slowly inch towards the table towards Grayson, "Damian is alive. Tim is alive. _I_ am alive, and we're going to stay that way for a long time."

"Stop!" Dick grasped the sides of his head causing the blood from his hand to drip down his face, the gun still in his hand, the other dropping the contents back onto the table. "Please, _stop_ ," he cried desperately. "Stop lying!"

Then, in a blur of motion, both Father and Todd ran towards Grayson. Before Damian could even process what was happening, Todd had tackled Grayson to the ground, over the table, and into Father's awaiting arms to catch his fall. The metal contents of the table fell to the ground in a crash.

Both Todd and Father held Grayson down as he continued to thrash desperately to escape their grasp. "Let me _go,_ " he pleaded desperately. The two Bats struggled to hold him down without furthering his injuries, as Drake ran quickly from the med bay with a sedative in hand.

Almost immediately, Grayson's struggle came to a stop, and Todd released his hold. Father continued to hold the unconscious vigilante in his arms, all of them breathing heavily as the excitement of the situation died down.

The young boy's eyes were wide as he continued to stare at the scene before him, still not having moved from his previous spot. Before he could even process what was happening, it was over.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that; frozen stiff, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. He didn't even see Alfred come in, or hear his two older brothers attempt to get his attention.

A light tingling sensation enveloped his entire body. He felt almost numb.

 _Did Grayson really just...?_

 _Did he almost really...?_

The image of Grayson holding a gun to his head was burned into his mind. He tried to blink it away, to tell himself it wasn't real - that it didn't happen, but it was no use. It did happen. Grayson almost... died. Right before his eyes, and Damian did not try and stop him.

" _Come on, buddy. Say something_ ," came a muffled voice. Why did it sound so far away?

* * *

Tim continued to wave his hand in front of Damian's face, attempting to get his attention. He was bent slightly at the knees, trying to be at eye level with his younger brother.

"Damian. Snap out of it, kiddo, it's over, he's OK," Tim tried to say, but Damian continued to stare wide-eyed where Dick was only a few minutes before. Bruce and Jason had gently carried him into the medical bay, where Alfred met them to reassess Dick's injuries. Alfred would have to re-wrap his ribs, and all the movement from before had reopened his gunshot wound, staining the stark white bandages almost instantly, not to mention the stitches he would now need on the incision in his palm from the medical supplies. Large droplets of blood could be found around the area.

After the new leader of the Titans helped Bruce and Jason secure Dick, he noticed Damian had yet to move from his spot at the entrance of the changing rooms. He had exchanged a look with Bruce that said, _make sure he's alright,_ before the two took the unconscious vigilante to the med-bay .

Tim approached him slowly, and spent the last few minutes trying to get the stunned hero to say something, but to no avail. Damian's eyes were wide in fear, and he was shaking slightly. His breath was at a faster pace than normal.

He sighed heavily, and placed both hands on either of the kid's small shoulders and shook gently, "Damian. He's fine. It was the fear toxin. His blood tested high levels of the stuff. Come on," he stated gently.

Heavy footsteps could be heard approaching from behind him coming from the direction of the med-bay. He knew immediately who they belonged to. "Don't you dare fucking slap him too, Jase," he said as he turned his head sharply to meet the older Bat's eyes.

Jason lifted his hands in a placating gesture, and rolled his eyes annoyed. "Are you fucking serious," he began incredulously. "The kid's, what, almost twelve, shitwad. You really think I'd slap him out of this?"

The teen vigilante furrowed his brows skeptically, and turned back towards the youngest, hands still on his shoulders and repeated the same lines before to get him to snap out of it. In his peripheral, he saw Jason enter the changing rooms and exit less than a minute later, a blanket in hand.

The Red Hood still had not changed from his uniform, as he was planning on leaving after the debrief. Still dressed clad in his patrolling gear, sans the red helmet, the anti-hero removed his heavy leather coat and threw onto the nearest empty counter lining the walls.

"Move," Jason commanded gently. Tim stepped away and allowed Jason to take his place.

Jason silently wrapped the blanket around the boy's shoulders. Then bending down until he was at eye level, he took both hands and cupped either side of the younger's face and examined him closely. He tilted the head in his hands slightly left and right, "Talk to me, kid. What are you thinking," he asked quietly.

Ever since Bruce had come back, Tim saw a dramatic change in his older brother. Yeah, sure, the Red Hood was still pretty brutal most of the time, but he stopped aiming to kill. In fact, he hasn't killed anyone in a while, and Tim was proud of the progress he's made. He's also been assisting with patrols and cases, and because of this they've grown closer as the adopted siblings they are. It doesn't mean they don't fight, occasionally, (occasionally, as in: all the time,) but Jason has always been able to completely switch in character and act as the older brother he just naturally is.

Damian continued to stare blankly at nothing. With a heavy sigh, Jason released Damian's face and stood up.

Gently, Jason picked up Damian as if he weighed nothing and began to walk slowly away.

"Where are you taking him," Tim asked following closely behind the two.

"Medbay. Kid's in shock," he said looking in the direction he was walking.

Tim rolled his eyes and picked up the pace to walk beside them. "I knew _that_ ," he said mostly to himself.

* * *

Jason felt his lip quirk up slightly into a smirk, as he mentally praised himself for managing to annoy Tim. It left his face almost immediately as he looked to examine the small boy in his arms. His head rested perfectly between his head and shoulder, and his arms were huddled into himself. Damian's eyes that were previously wide open were now clenched tightly shut. He could feel the kid's body shake with silent sobs as he walked towards the room he and Bruce had previously placed Dick in.

The med-bay was brightly lit, but had dark walls, much like the changing rooms. It was equipped with a few small rooms, with amenities much like a hospital, and much of the same tech the League was equipped with. The three Bats approached the room where the new occupant resided in. As they approached the destination, Jason saw that the bed was angled into a sitting position, the occupant of the bed still unconscious, and Bruce had a hand placed firmly on either side of Dicks's chest to hold him upright as Alfred finished wrapping his chest.

The two looked up at the two new arrivals, a look of sympathy crossed their face as they saw the small boy in his arms.

"He's fine," Jason said as he approached a cushioned leather couch in the corner of the fairly room. "Just a little shaken up, is all." Wordlessly, Tim jogged ahead of him and grabbed a few black cased pillows from a cabinet on the far side of the room and placed it in the couch before Jason gently placed Damian in it. After he appeared to be settled, Jason re-positioned the blanket around him, and took a knee beside the couch.

He titled his head to the side and examined Damian's face, for what seemed to be the tenth time that night. The newest Robin's brows were furrowed and his eyes were clenched shut, but he appeared to be sleeping.

He reached out and gently ran his fingers through the kid's short, spiked hair. "Yeah," Jason began quietly. "I think he's out."

He remained like that for a few seconds, examining the pained expression on his brother's face. Jason didn't think Damian entirely understood what was going on at the time. The kid had just walked into the situation, where it _looked_ like Dick was going to...fucking _shoot_ himself _._ Never had he been so glad he followed Bruce's rules about not having his guns on the property. Did Damian even know the guns weren't loaded? Did Damian even know that the fear toxin they thought didn't work was the cause for this little _shit show_? _Shit,_ what the fuck was going through this kid's head right now?!

Jason understood Damian. The kid was raised under the League of Shadows, just as Jason was for a short time when he came back. He understood that the Grandson of the Demon was raised under just _shitty_ circumstances, just dying for approval from someone, from anyone. He didn't have people who truly cared about him like he does now. Now that he has it, he's afraid to lose it. All of them are the same in that sense. _This_ is their normal. Their family truly cares for each other, and to lose any of them is _unimaginable_.

"It's better that he stays that way until we can figure out what happened," Bruce's deep voice filled the room.

"Jason, Tim. I need to speak with the both of you," Bruce stated gently as he approached the door.

Tim was already following him, while Jason paused to look at the unconscious occupants of the room. With a sigh, Jason stood up and approached the door beside Tim, who turned the dial on the panel beside the door and dimmed the lights of the room to a comfortable level.

"Alfred," Bruce began again before leaving, with the two close behind. "Do you mind staying with them?"

"Of course, Master Bruce. I shall alert you if either one awakens," Alfie stated as he gently inserted a saline drip into the crook of Dick's left arm.

With a nod from Bruce, the two Red's exited the room behind him.

"Back to the drawing board," Bruce said not turning around, and together they walked back to the Bat-computer to continue their mission: Find Crane.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the wait, folks. I started writing this chapter, then lost the charger to my laptop for a while and I was too lazy to buy a new one. Next chapter, the Batfam discuss a game plan! And no, we have not seen the last of the toxin.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Oops.

Also, this chapter is more fluff than anything, so enjoy. Or don't. Sorry? You're welcome?

 **Rated T: For language, courtesy of, plot twist: Mostly Tim, but still, Jason too.**

 _"Back to the drawing board," Bruce said not turning around, and together they walked back to the Bat-computer to continue their mission: Find Crane._

* * *

The toxicity results were already displayed on the computer as the three bats reentered the cave lobby.

The Batman, sans the cape and cowl, took his place in the chair in front of the main computer and opened up a few files that lit up the screen.

The blood test displayed a series of three-dimensional circles varying in colors with lines connecting to them. Beside it on the same screen displayed previous compositions of Crane's known toxins, as well as formula files gathered throughout the years.

"Is he clear," Jason asked, still standing near the entrance of the med-bay.

Clicking a few keys, two screens popped up, side by side. One showed a sample in it's cellular level of Dick's blood before the toxin, and one after the incident. Both appeared to be similar, which meant the toxin likely left his system entirely. All the bats silently studied it for a few moments.

"It would appear so," responded Batman as he closed the tabs and returned it back to the previous screen of files.

Tim walked up beside him, looking up at the screen. "This formula is almost identical to Crane's previous ones," he gestured to the blood test results.

"Yeah, fine," Jason began as he walked up to the computer opposite of Tim. "But why did this one take so long to take effect, and if it's identical to his old ones, why the fuck did this take so long to hammer Nightwing?"

Wordlessly, Batman began typing commands into the computer. Multiple pages piled onto the screen and all the present bats stared intently studying their contents.

After a moment, Bruce spoke up. "It looks like there is an agent in the toxin that only triggers when the amount of serotonin in the brain decreased to a certain level," he said, eyes not leaving the screen.

"In other words," Jason said, stepping closer to the screen. "As soon as Goldenboy stopped being his excessively exuberant self… AKA, the debrief…" The anti-hero trailed off, leaving Bruce's reaction to the debrief unsaid.

"So," Tim began. "There must have been some suppressing agent within the toxin that would keep the toxin at bay until it was able to take full effect. The decrease in serotonin had to have been gradual."

"That would make sense," Jason said, his hand rubbing absentmindedly on his chin. "I'll be willing to bet that gas wasn't just a distraction. Maybe it hid the suppressing agent."

"I agree. There are other means to distract us, and Crane couldn't have known what Damian was likely to choose when he activated that machine. For all he knew, Robin could've gone straight for him if he saw that the gas wasn't an immediate threat. He knew we were close behind. Damian must have known that too, _and_ Dick was intravenously exposed to the toxin. If Robin wanted to, he could've still gone for Crane. Gas was a risky distraction," the young detective deduced. Tim was pacing back and fourth, his brain working on overdrive.

Tim paused from his pacing. "Can we create an antidote based on Dick's blood sample for when we run into Crane again?"

"Negative," Batman answered. "We took Dick's blood sample after he was already exposed to the toxin, and after his body already reacted to it and changed its composition. We would need a live sample: one in the initial state before it was injected."

"What exactly did this toxin target?" Jason asked, his brow furrowed in thought.

"What do you mean?" Tim asked, looking curiously at his older brother. This was Jonathan Crane. Scarecrow. Of course it would target the subject's deepest fears.

"I mean, we've seen what Scarecrow's toxin does, right? And it certainly doesn't do _that_." At the last word, Jason gestured back to the center of the room where the examination table was previously located. Alfred had already managed to move everything back to their rightful locations, and clean up the blood that had previously decorated the floor.

It was a good point. All of them had their run with Scarecrow's fear toxin at least once in their career, but never before had it driven any of them so far past the line of rationality. They've had incidents where they almost hurt other people, but never themselves. Without a doubt, if Dick _actually_ had the means to do so, they would've lost him. The two proteges of Batman looked at him expectantly.

Without looking back, Bruce addressed his boys. "I'll look into it more. For now, I want both of you to hit the showers and get some sleep."

Jason cleared his throat, "I'll see you all tomorrow then," he said as he stepped towards the loading area where his bike was located.

"Nonsense," Bruce said, still not looking away from the screen. "I already had Alfred prepare your room."

Behind the Batman, Jason smiled. Of course he would never _admit_ that he wanted to stay, but he was glad for the offer.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Tim asked exasperatedly, already expecting the answer.

Bruce paused from typing and looked up at his son, who was leaning against the console. "No. I'm fine. Go get some rest."

Jason let out a deep, exaggerated sigh. "Well, in that case, I'll be in the gym. I didn't get to bust as many faces in as I had hoped tonight." The Red Hood stretched his arms out wide and began to head towards the weight room. "Night B. Burgerboy."

Tim rolled his eyes at the nickname. Walking up next to his adoptive father, Tim watched as Bruce's hands moved rapidly across the keys of the computer.

"Actually, I think I'm going to go check on Dick. See if Alfred needs help with anything," Tim said already making his way to the med-bay.

"Boys," Bruce's deep tenor voice echoed throughout the cave.

Both boys stopped in their tracks, looking at Bruce expectantly.

"Good work today. Both of you."

The two brothers exchanged a look with each other, before nodding once in acknowledgment to their surrogate father and going their separate ways for the night.

* * *

Tim quietly made his way to the med-bay recovery room that two of his brother's were currently occupying. He was glad that he had changed to comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt prior to the initial debrief, because he was too physically and emotionally exhausted to change now.

Normally after big missions like this, Tim seemingly spends the whole night running on adrenaline from the excitement of a mission. Now, the rush of excitement was finally wearing off and the young vigilante simply felt drained. Not only Dick, but Damian was injured. Luckily, they weren't life threatening injuries, but still enough to warrant the constant worry ebbing in his stomach. Of all outcomes of the mission that he and the World's Greatest Detective predicted, this was the least likely.

They were unable to apprehend Crane.

They were unable to collect a live sample of his new toxin.

They were unable to stop him before he injected that toxin into Nightwing.

The night was full of failures.

 _Maybe if I had gone after them as soon as I lost signal to their tracers_ , the teenager thought. _Maybe if I had worked faster clearing the upper levels, I would've gotten to them on time before they engaged._

 _Neither of them wouldn't have gotten hurt._

 _Dick would't have almost…_

Now, Tim was standing in front of the closed door to his brothers were sleeping in. He was going to check on his older brother. He was on the other side of the door, sleeping. Breathing. Alive. Dick isn't going anywhere, anytime soon. He's fine. Everyone is fine.

Grabbing the door handle, he shook his head. _You can't change it what happened tonight now. Get over it. The important thing is, you didn't lose anyone tonight._

 _Your family is breathing._

 _Your family is alive._

 _They're_ safe.

He couldn't help but feel like this was his fault: that Dick almost… _killed_ himself. It was semi-irrational to think that Tim was responsible for Dick almost dying at his own hand, but he could come up with a million different ways this night could've turned out differently, and Dick… that had been completely unexpected. Tim was terrified, but unlike Damian, he hid it better. He had never even seen Damian so visibly shaken by tonight's outcome.

A larger part of him wanted to blame Jason. It _was_ Jason's gun after all. Tim never supported Jason's choice of weapon. It was how he was raised, how Batman taught him. He only tolerated the fact that he knew they were no longer loaded with actual bullets, and Jason hadn't killed a soul in months.

Sighing heavily, Tim opened the door and was greeted with the sight of Alfred finishing up wrapping a white gauze around Dick's newly injured left hand.

"Hey, Alf," he greeted with a small smile.

"Master Timothy," his surrogate grandfather's old, British accent always provided him comfort and Tim felt himself relax a little more.

"Mind if I sit in," Tim asked, pulling up a large leather chair and bringing it by the bed where his oldest brother slept.

Alfred smiled tiredly. "Of course not, my dear boy. I was just finishing up here," he said as he wrapped up the excess bandages and put away in it's respective cabinet. "If you would alert me if anything changes, I have a few more matters to attend to before retiring for the night."

"No problem, Alf," he responded, sitting down.

The elder butler nodded once. "Very well. Also, if Master Damian awakens, please suggest he go to his room. That couch looks far from comfortable, and it is uncertain when Master Dick will awaken, as well." With that, he exited the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Tim scooted his chair closer to the bed and watched the steady rise and fall of his brother's chest. The evenness of Dick's breath and the light snoring from Damian from the couch behind him _should have_ helped ease the worry that buried itself in his mind, but it didn't.

 _Shouldn't we restrain him, at least,_ he thought. _Just in case he wakes up and tries something again? I mean, that makes sense, right?_

No. That wouldn't make any sense. Bruce had said the toxin was completely out of his system.

Wait, no. Bruce had said, " _It would appear so,"_ as in _maybe there is something they couldn't see._

He shook his head. _Now you're just being paranoid. Dick is fine. He isn't going to hurt himself. You're right here. You're watching him. You're not going to let him get hurt._

He buried himself deeper in the chair, closed his eyes, and let his shoulders fall slack in an attempt to quiet the rapid progression of thoughts in his mind. Like always, his brain was still chasing after Scarecrow: where he could possibly be hiding, what he is currently doing, where did he find all of his associates, all of the equipment, the money, the -

His thoughts were cut off by the opening of the door. The teen vigilante shot up in his chair, now alert.

"It's just me," Jason said in a whisper, his hands up in a placating gesture.

Tim allowed himself to relax. "Sorry. You just violently derailed my train of thought."

* * *

The older boy snickered. "Eh, I tend to do that a lot." Jason walked over to the IV stand positioned beside the bed and his eyes grazed over the label on the bag. After reading it, he let out a low whistle. "Alf has him on some heavy meds." He turned to Tim. "Won't be feelin' a thing."

The other Red rolled his eyes. "Weren't you going to the gym?"

Jason shrugged. The older took the time to change after the brief meeting with Bruce and was now wearing fingerless exercise gloves and a loose black t-shirt with matching sweat pants. "I was just heading there now. Thought I'd check up on the little replacements. Otherwise known as, you and demon over there," he whispered, gesturing to Damian still asleep on the couch.

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Why are you checking on me?"

A small, sad smile found itself on the anti-hero's face. The Red Hood has seen it all in his life. And death. And life again. He can tell when you're hiding something. Like, when you're hiding pain behind a smile, or a burden you don't want shared. He may have picked up a few skills from Cassandra, too.

If one thing he knows for sure, it's how to read his brothers.

"You're scared," he stated simply.

Jason watched as the younger boy visibly tensed, and his face subtly grew with anger.

"Of course I was scared! Dick almost died - by _your_ gun! Don't give me that 'I know you're scared' bullshit! Of-fucking-course I was scared," Tim whispered angrily as he stood up from his chair, now facing Jason.

The taller boy didn't even flinch as Tim came closer. Instead, he stood his ground, looking down at the slightly shorter boy.

"No," he shook his head. "I said, 'You _are_ scared.' You still think he's going to hurt himself."

Tim's eyes widened, and he was physically taken back. "No… no, I don't. Bruce said the toxin is out," he said in a small voice, as if trying to convince himself more than Jason.

"Not only that, but you obviously blame me," he continued calmly. He _did_ just mention that it was his gun that could have potentially killed their brother.

The younger boy looked down at his feet as if he'd been caught.

Jason crossed his arms and continued looking at his brother, even though he was no longer making eye contact. "You know, Tim? When Bruce came back and he let me keep working with you all, he made me keep a promise, remember?"

His younger brother looked off to the side. "The rubber bullets. No kill shots. Yeah, I know," he huffed out.

"Did you _also_ know that I'm not allowed to bring loaded guns into the cave," Jason asked raising a brow, arms still crossed.

The younger, multi-city vigilante finally met his brother's eyes, and paused in thought. There had always been the "No Guns," policy in the Wayne household, but of course, Jason was an exception to that rule now, because he used them all the time. Prior to missions, during briefings, Tim had always seen Jason fully equipped with heavy weaponry.

"The clip was empty," he said meaning to be a question, but it came out as a statement.

"Bruce would have singlehandedly beat my ass to the Narrows if I even _thought_ about bringing a loaded gun into the cave. Yeah, I load them in safe houses on the way to places," he stated casually, not even bothering to whisper. Tim glanced at the couch. Damian still looked sound asleep.

"And Dick," Jason said, continuing to speak in a conversational tone. "You heard B, and you saw the test results. He's clean. The toxin naturally left his system. All we gotta do is let it run it's course whenever, or if ever, we run into it again." The older was walking to the side of the room towards the sleeping boy.

The rational reasoning that was voiced outloud by the older boy was admittedly easing Tim's troubled mind. Of course, he knew this, but naturally, he was paranoid. Bruce always taught them to expect the worst, and plan for it.

"And you know Bruce," Jason continued. "He's probably already trying to find an antidote with what little information we have on it," he said casually as he made a move to sit on the sleeping boy on the couch.

"Jason," Tim whispered in warning. "What are you doing? You'll wake him up," he said studying Jason as he approached Damian. The youngest had his back facing up, covered in a blanket, with his head resting peacefully on a pillow and his hands folded underneath it.

"What? He probably woke up, like, five minutes ago," Jason said, looking at his wrist at an imaginary watch. "Isn't that right, _Demon_?"

Smirking mischievously, the older, much larger, man sat on the small couch that was already occupied by a small boy sprawled across it.

"Todd, get off of me immediately, or I will decapitate you in your sleep," came Damian's muffled voice.

Dramatically spreading his arms out wide, and moving to lay on the couch as well, Jason continued to be an obnoxious older brother. "Sorry, Batbrat. Didn't quiet hear that. Sounds like you have a 220 pound mass of muscle sitting across you."

"Oh shiii-," Jason began flailing his arms dramatically as he was shoved off the couch and onto his feet.

"I said," the Son of Batman said, now sitting up. "'I will decapitate you in your sleep,'" he repeated again, emphasizing each word.

Jason waved his arm dismissively as he headed toward the door, "Yeah, yeah. I don't hate you either, kid."

Tim watched the scene unfold with his hand across his face, a fond smile hidden underneath. He expected that the older knew the youngest bat was awake, probably trying to give the same reassurances to ease their paranoia. He knew Damian would need to be reassured that Dick was fine, and the joking atmosphere would've helped with normalcy to really convince him that everything was relatively okay at the moment.

"Oh," the older Red said before exiting the room. "I ran into Alfie on the way here. He wanted me to tell you it'd be safe to wait for Dick in your room. He's not waking up anytime soon."

"Yeah," the other Red began. "He told me that too."

Still seated, and his eyes tired from sleep, Damian crossed his arms and huffed in annoyance. "You are all fools for thinking I am leaving this room."

Both boys glanced at each other and smirked conspiringly.

"We could always force you," Tim said with a shrug.

"Yeah, get the bolas and tie you down," Jason suggested.

"Touch me and you die," Damian half-heartedly said wiping the sleep from his eyes. He's pretty much gotten used to his brothers sarcastic vernacular over the past few years.

Jason shrugged and began heading out the door again. "I don't really care where you sleep, to be honest. Just relaying a message. Do either of you need anything before I head to the gym? I _might_ be feeling nice enough to get it for you. _Might."_

"My MP3 player would be a sufficient medium to drown out Drake's attempt at conversation, seeing as he doesn't appear to be leaving anytime soon."

Tim rolled his eyes and ignored his comment. "My laptop would be awesome, Jason, thanks. I need to look more into the case."

"If it's not already in the cave, I'm not getting it. Just a heads up," the second oldest said as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

 **A/N:** I pretty much already have the next chapter written out, so the wait will not be nearly as long.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** I made some small changes to the previous chapter, if you want to reread that.

 _"If it's not already in the cave, I'm not getting it. Just a heads up," the second oldest said as he closed the door behind him._

* * *

Damian watched as Jason exited the room, semi-slamming the door behind him. He would've berated Todd for such an inconsiderate action causing excessively loud noise had he not known Grayson would not have heard it being on the amount of sedatives flowing through his system. Looking across from him, he watched the even rise and fall Grayson's chest as he slept. Beside him, Drake moved to sit in a chair positioned near the foot of the bed. The sight was comforting because it ensured that Grayson was safe.

He had heard Todd's words from earlier as he was feigning sleep. He had woken up as soon as Drake had entered the room. He would insist to Father that both Drake and Todd be given more stealth training seeing as they cannot even communicate quietly, but for now he would stay with Grayson, even if it meant he had to be in the same room with Drake for who knows how many more hours.

The youngest bat did not know that the excitement of tonight's events was a result of the fear toxin. Damian didn't even think that of a possibility at a time. When Todd had mentioned it, it had all made sense. How stupid was he! Of course it was out of character for Grayson to act as harshly as he did! The only _logical_ explanation would have been fear toxin! _Stupid_!

The question now is, will the toxin have after effects? Has Father already developed an antidote for future use? Will they be able to apprehend Crane before he is able to further its development?

"Your face could get stuck like that, ya know?"

The voice that broke him out of his thoughts belonged to Drake. The older hero had regained his position in the chair beside the injured hero and was hunched forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands on his chin, turned towards him.

"What are you on about, Drake?"

"You're thinking too hard," the older responded, sitting up in the chair. "Your face is all," he waved his hand aimlessly over his own face. "All scrunched up. Your thinking face."

"I was not," he responded childishly. Okay, yes, he was, but he wanted Drake to feel like he was wrong. As Todd put it, " _It's what little brother's do._ "

Drake shook his head and returned to his previous position, only this time looking at the occupant of the bed, studying his face intently. "Sure you weren't," he said quietly.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, both searching for any signs of change in their injured brother all the while waiting to see if Todd stayed true to his word and brought them what they requested.

Speaking of Todd, Damian found himself thinking back to what he had said earlier.

"What Todd said was true? Grayson will be fine?" The words left Damian's mouth before he could think.

"That's what Bruce says. He's still running some tests, but yeah. He'll be okay…We'll make sure of it," Drake added as an afterthought.

He received a low hum in confirmation as a response and a brief, comfortable silence between the two followed, each left to their own thoughts.

"You didn't know the gun wasn't loaded either, I take it?" The teen vigilante's voice broke the silence.

"He was a fool for bringing guns into the cave, regardless if they were loaded or not. I'm surprised Father continues to allow it." _No. I did not._

Drake only nodded knowingly in response and continued observing the first Robin.

Neither could imagine how badly the night could have ended had the guns been loaded - how _easy_ it could have been to have a life end right there in their homefront. Damian began fiddling with the sheets, and fluffing his pillow to a more adequate, comfortable position. He was not leaving the room until Grayson had awakened to reassure that there were no lasting effects of the toxin. He'd suggest to Father to furnish the recovery rooms with futons, at the very least. Leather couches were not comfortable in the slightest.

"Knock, knock, bat kids," Todd's obnoxious voice said as he opened the door after a few short minutes. "Here's your iPod, kid," he said as he tossed the iPod in his direction. Damian caught it with one hand.

"Where's my laptop," Drake asked bluntly, already knowing that the Red Hood likely did not grab it for him.

"I didn't know where it was," Todd responded with a smirk.

"It was right by Damian's iPod by the locker rooms."

"Yeah, I saw that."

"You didn't grab it."

"What do I look like? Alfred? Get it yourself," Todd said smiling wide as he turned and left the room, leaving the door open behind him.

"How? How did I _know_ he was going to do that?" Drake said standing up, presumably to retrieve his laptop.

Damian already began to put the earbuds in his ears. "Obviously you did not, or you would have gotten up earlier."

Drake rolled his eyes in response, but he saw the small, hidden smile on his lips as he turned out of the room.

* * *

The numbness of unconsciousness was fleeting quickly as Dick's mind began to awaken. His mind told him he was awake, but he decided to access his surroundings before opening his eyes.

He tackled smell first. With a deep inhale, his nose was met with a light smell of some citrus-y disinfectant. Like the one Alfie uses to wipe down the counters of the kitchen. But, he wasn't in the kitchen, obviously. That'd be kind of weird.

Why was he lying down? Okay, well he was lying down because he was just asleep. That much made sense.

Could he hear anything? He held his breath to focus. Yeah. There was the distance sounds of bats screeching, which would mean he was probably in the cave. He connected the sound to the smell: med-bay, maybe? Not one of the surgery rooms, which thankfully, they rarely used. Those usually smelled like a different disinfectant to, he guessed, sterilize things?

Okay, back to sound; he could hear, shifting? Like someone else was in the room with him. He focused on the sounds of the other occupant and could hear light snoring from two different people. Yeah, he was probably in one of the recovery rooms waiting for someone to wake up.

Wait, recovery room? Someone was injured. _Who_? He tried to recall the last thing he remembered, but he was drawing a blank.

Ok, back to senses. He was on something soft and warm. He could feel the pressure of a light blanket draped on top of him. It was nice. He took another deep inhale to appreciate the comfort of the bed, but the pain came back to him like he was hit by a truck.

Okay, yup. Definitely him. Injured. Yeah.

The multi-city vigilante felt sore. Sore, like, all over. His entire body felt like it was covered in bruises. The pain was mostly concentrated in his chest, and his left arm. He could feel the pressure of bandages wrapped tightly around those areas, and a stinging pain in his left hand. A light pinch could be felt at the crook of his arm, most likely from an IV. It wasn't an overwhelming pain, thanks to probably the cocktail of drugs pumping through his system.

Everything he was feeling could be summarized into one word:

"Ow," he groaned as he opened his eyes, and immediately clenched them tightly.

Although the lights in the room where dim, his eyes still needed to adjust to them.

 _How long have I been asleep_ , he asked himself.

"About nine hours," came a gruff voice from his left.

 _Did I ask that out loud?_

"Yeah, you did, Dickiebird," the voice replied calmly.

Turning his head towards the voice, he saw Jason leaning against the frame of the doorway, a towel draped around his neck. He wore a gray T-shirt, and loose black sweatpants. His hair was wet and sticking to his face, seemingly having just gotten out of the shower. Picking up one end of the towel, he began scrubbing at his hair to dry it, making the white streak stick out at odd ends.

"Came in to check on you," he said now using the towel to rub behind his ears. He stopped, and titled his head slightly, observing. "Yeah," he conceded. "Still look like shit."

Dick felt his lips quirk up in a smile, "Wow, how nice of you, Jaybird." Careful not to rip the IV out, Dick attempted to sit up while continuing to observe his surroundings. He was correct: he was definitely in the recovery room. The light snoring he heard came from two people: Tim and Damian. Damian was lying peacefully on the leather couch that took up most of the far wall, while Tim was in a chair beside him, resting his head on the bed near Dick's feet.

"What if I had kicked him in my sleep," he jokingly asked out loud as he watched Tim's shoulders rise and fall evenly.

"Then it would have been fucking hilarious," Jason said as he walked closer beside the bed. "How are you feeling, really," he asked as he adjusted the bed to come up to a sitting position. The movement caused the sleeping Red Robin to shoot up, alert.

"Wha-," he began to question tiredly. The teen shook his head to clear the sleep, and blinked a few times to wake himself up. His eyes then focused on the occupant of the bed, now sitting up and awake. "Hey! You're up," he said excitedly, but quietly as to not wake the Robin still asleep on the couch.

Dick smiled, then crossed his legs and stretched his arms dramatically. He hissed, as the movement caused the pain to flare up in his chest. "Yeah, I'm awake. Very much awake. Ow," he said wrapping his arms around his torso.

Jason wordlessly handed him a cup of water, and a few pain killers. Dick smiled in thanks as he downed the pills and water in a few gulps. He then walked around the bed to sit on the space that Dick's feet previously took up.

"OK, down to business," Jason began. "What do you remember?"

Tim, still seated, looked up at him expectantly.

Dick's gaze shifted between his two brothers, "Excellent question." He closed his eyes and willed his mind to remember.

What _did_ he remember? Memories were coming back to him in fragments. Now that he was fully awake, he could concentrate better.

Mission in Gotham. He had driven there immediately after his shift with the BPD.

Crane had escaped a few weeks before, but they found him. Their mission was to take him back to Arkham as soon as possible.

The Batfam had split up. The Reds and Batman were to take out the men outside and buy them some time, while he and Dami took out Crane...

Damian. Him and Damian. They found Scarecrow, but Batman told them not to engage...

Nightwing made a bad call...

A bad call that got his baby brother hurt.

He walked his baby brother right into a trap.

He remembered a little bit of the car ride back to the cave, and Alfred patching him up. He remembered seeing Damian's injuries, and giving a debrief, but not much else.

Did he pass out after the debrief? How come he didn't remember getting to the med-bay?

Dick opened his eyes after a minute and looked towards the sleeping boy on the couch across the room, "Is he alright?"

Both boys looked in the direction the oldest was. "Yeah, he's fine," Tim began quietly. "A little shaken up. He's woken up a few times, but wouldn't leave."

"We tried to take him to his room, but he wasn't having it," Jason said looking back at Dick. "We settled for bringing him his iPod and just letting him chill in here until you woke up." The earbuds blaring music from his MP3 was probably the only reason the kid wasn't awake right now.

"He's been in here the whole time," he asked curiously. Dami was not anything short of loyal, but Dick figured he'd be mad at him for not listening when Robin reasserted Batman's instructions of not engaging.

"Maybe he wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid once you woke up." Jason had meant it as a joke, but Dick winced.

"Hey, I made a bad call. No need to rub it in my face," he said looking down sadly at his lap.

Jason raised a brow and titled his head. "That's...that's not what I'm talking about."

Dick looked up to see Tim and Jason exchanging calculated looks. "Dick," Tim began hesitantly as he looked back at his oldest brother. "What's the very last thing you remember?"

"The mission debrief." Dick face palmed. " _Shit_ , Bruce is going to _kill_ me."

The two Red's winced at his choice of words. "Why would he do that," Jason asked slowly as if expecting a specific answer.

Dick's eyes widened in surprise. They were both there for the mission debrief, weren't they? They definitely heard him explain how badly he messed up. "Because," Dick began slowly. "I lead us into a trap, even after Batman told us not to engage."

"Dude," Jason said after observing his brother for a moment, then standing up. "B already yelled at you."

Tim got up from the chair at the same time and walked up to one of the cabinets lining the walls. He pulled out an empty syringe and removed the plastic casing from it.

"You really don't remember any of it," Jason had probably meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement.

The injured hero's head jutted back in surprise. "Remember any of _what_?"

Jason exchanged another glance with Tim before looking back at Dick. "Fear toxin," he stated tersely. "It was bad."

"I'm taking a blood sample," Tim said as he plunged the syringe into the arm the IV was not in. Dick didn't even flinch as the needle punctured his flesh and began drawing blood.

"But, nothing happened. I was fine after I was injected, and after I breathed that stuff in, right? I was fine," Bludhaven's hero was speaking rapidly, trying to figure out what the hell they were talking about.

"We thought so too," Tim was already heading for the door, with the blood sample in hand. "The blood test said otherwise. I'm going to go make sure none of it is still in your system. Don't worry - it should be gone by now, but just as a precaution," he added as Dick's eyes widened. "We may have overlooked something. We can analyze and compare the time space between your blood tests to see if there is any progression in your blood composition due to the toxin. Maybe one that associates with memory loss, because, definitely not something to forget about," Tim said rapidly as he was walking out the door.

Dick rolled his eyes at his little brother's antics. Tim tended to go off on tangents when he thought out loud. "Jay," he said to the only other conscious person in the room. "How bad was it?"

Jason had walked over and was now leaning back on the doorway as Dick had first seen him when he woke up. "Uh, not nearly as bad as it _could_ have been, I guess." Dick responded with his, _'no nonsense'_ face when Jason didn't give him a straight answer.

The anti-hero rolled his eyes. "Okay, yeah. It was pretty bad. It was completely unexpected. Scared the shit out of us, especially the kid," he jutted his chin towards the still sleeping boy. Dick was about to ask again, _what happened,_ but Jason cut him off. "I was supposed to tell Bruce as soon as you woke up. I'm going to go get him, and we'll explain everything, okay?"

"Fine," he huffed in response. Why was everyone avoiding his question? Dick watched as Jason turned to leave, opening the door, which allowed Damian's Great Dane, Titus, to enter the room.

"Hey, bud," he said quietly to the dog, and with a quick ruffle of the head, Jason left and causing the automatic door to slide closed again.

Titus excitedly trotted over to Dick, who was still seated cross legged on the bed. "Hey, boy, ya miss me," he cooed as he lifted his right hand to pet the beast of a Great Dane.

He stopped himself as he looked down at the thick white bandages that covered his left hand up to just below his wrist.

Dick titled his head to examine the bandage, not recalling how he injured his hand. It must have had something to do with the toxin trip he supposedly took hours before.

"I don't suppose you know what happened, do you, Titus?" He jokingly asked his baby brother's dog as he began unwrapping the bandages to see the damage.

Titus only titled his head in response, then trotted over to his person still asleep on the couch.

* * *

 **A/N:** WAKEY WAKEY, DAMIAN. Review's are fun to read, tbh. So drop one if you feel like it, but don't feel compelled to!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I'm now into my second semester of college! Don't worry - I haven't given up on this story. And for the sake of the story, the only one who will be affected by the toxin in this story is Dick!

Warning: um graphic, but not really, but KINNNND of graphic dream sequence, courtesy of Damian. Also, injury and whatnot idk. It's kind of told in Damian's perspective, but mostly just third person. Also, warning: dream suicide.

 _"I don't suppose you know what happened, do you, Titus?" He jokingly asked his baby brother's dog as he began unwrapping the bandages to see the damage._

 _Titus only titled his head in response, then trotted over to his person still asleep on the couch._

* * *

His dreams were never exactly… _pleasant._ Being the son of an assassin and a vigilante will do that to one's subconscious. Sometimes his dreams were invaded by the scum of Gotham's streets - fighting along side Father, or his brothers, to cleanse the city of their insanity. Other nights they were tainted with the blood of those he has murdered in the time he spent with Mother and Grandfather with the Shadows.

But tonight, it was different.

The dream began pleasantly. He stood tall on the edge of Wayne Tower. His cape rustled softly in the light wind, the signature "R" proudly displayed on his chest. Beside him was Grayson with that dopey smile clearly displayed on his face, looking down at the city below - _their_ city. The fourth Robin looked downward in admiration of the tall buildings, and the heavy traffic down below, despite it being well past midnight. The police sirens in the distance sounded louder than the honking of the irritable late-night taxi drivers. This was Gotham. He looked beside him at Grayson once more. This time, his brother was looking straight at him, as if waiting for his signal. With a curt nod, Nightwing's smile broadened and he spread his arms wide and allowed himself to free fall off of the building. Damian allowed a small smile to grace his lips as well as he fell into the cold Gotham night.

That was when the dream began to change.

The city began to disappear beneath him as he fell, only to be surrounded by blackness. In the distance, he could see Nightwing continue to fall as well as the lights of the city disappeared around them. They were falling, _falling_ , _falling_ into nothing!

" _Nigthwing_!" The youngest called out to him in desperation. Grayson did not seem to have heard him.

Desperately, Damian reached for his grappling hook, but there was _nothing to shoot it at_!

 _Think, Damian! Think!_

" _Grayson!"_ He called out to him again.

The darkness was never ending as they continued to fall. Damian kept his eyes on Grayson, when he kept distancing further and further away until Damian couldn't see him anymore.

The eleven year old closed his eyes and willed the darkness to stop pursuing him - willed himself to _stop falling_.

Suddenly, the sensation of falling ceased.

Reluctantly opening his eyes, Damian found himself lying flat on his face on a cold concrete floor, his arms spread wide. Slowly, he moved his arms closer to him and pushed himself up to gather his surroundings.

Light shined from above him like a spotlight that spread about ten feet all the way around. Outside of the spotlight, it was total darkness.

 _Comms could still be online,_ Damian thought.

Robin pressed his hand to his ear. "Robin to Nightwing. Report. I have landed unscathed. What is your location?" Releasing his hand, the only noise on the other end was static.

With a exasperated sigh, the Son of the Bat tried again. "Robin to Batman. Nightwing and I have been separated. Requesting immediate assistance."

Nothing.

Once more. "Robin to the Reds. Red Robin. Hood. Requesting assistance." Static met his ears once again.

Robin cupped his hands over his mouth to amplify his call. " _Nightwing_!" His own voice reverberated in an echo.

Taking a step forward, Robin found that the light above him followed him where he moved. His brows creased in confusion and contemplation. Something was bubbling in the pit of his stomach - an unpleasant feeling. He could not decipher whether it was instinctual paranoia, or fear.

Damian did not know how long he remained walking, nor did he know whether or not he was traveling in circles. He continued to call out for Grayson. For anyone. What seemed like forever, he came to a stop as he heard a noise echoing in the distance.

Closing his eyes, Robin focused on the noise. Was that… _crying_?

"Grayson?" He asked hesitantly. He took a step forward. "Grayson!" He said more loudly. The sobbing continued, sounding distinctly like his old mentor. He quickened his pace and started running towards the quiet sobbing.

Damian's running came to a stop ten feet shy of a figure on his knees, hunched over with his face in his hands, his back facing Damian. The figure's shoulder shook, his body wracked with silent sobs. The dark kevlar, the weapons hoisted at his hip was unmistakably his eldest brother.

"Nightwing. Report," he stated curtly. "Are you hurt?" He approached him slowly, the uneasy feeling in his stomach slowly growing.

" _Enough_!" Damian yelled closing the distance between them. He placed a firm hand on the Bludhaven vigilante's shoulder and forced him to turn.

Damian's masked eyes were met with unmasked blue one's wide with fear. Nightwing fell backwards on his bottom, his hands firmly on the ground as he dragged himself backwards a few feet in shock.

Damian's own eyes widened behind his mask. "Nightwing? What… _What is going on_?" He asked attempting to approach him again, only for Nightwing to back up even further.

It surprised Robin to see Grayson in such a state. A look of fear and desperation that one would find in a child who just lost their parents.

Damian removed his mask and knelt down to be at eye level with his brother. "Dick," he spoke as if talking to a broken child, just as Grayson did on many occasions during their endeavors as the Dynamic Duo. "What's wrong?"

Dick's face almost instantly crumpled. " _I'm so sorry."_ The older man brought his knees to his chest as he rocked steadily and continued to sob.

" _I couldn't save them. I couldn't protect them,"_ he repeated like a mantra through his tears.

 _What the hell is he on about?_ Damian himself looked at Grayson in shock.

Robin stood up again, disregarding his mask on the floor a few feet away from Nightwing. Still staring at Nightwing, Damian took a few steps back trying to decide his next course of action. He needed to find a way out. He needed to somehow contact Batman. They needed to get out of here. Wherever _here_ was.

He stopped moving backwards as his boot met with something wet and think. Thicker than water. Thinner than mud.

The uneasiness invaded his entire body now, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Slowly, he looked down at his feet and found the green of his boots were now stained in deep, red blood. His eyes slowly followed the origins of the puddle.

" _No.."_ escaped his lips.

A large, growing puddle of blood surrounded a new figure on the ground. A wing-like cape covered it's body, a mess of black hair peeking from underneath.

 _Drake_.

The youngest protege was on his knees in an instant slowly turning over the older boy.

Damian fought back tears as he looked into the face of his brother. His once vibrant blue eyes were a dull gray, staring widely up at the ceiling. A small stream of blood was pouring out of his nose and down his face. He was unmoving, his chest still. The blood continued to pool around him, from where, Damian couldn't tell, only that it was starting pool around him as well.

Ripping his green glove off of his right arm, Robin hurriedly checked for a pulse, knowing he would be only met with stillness beneath his fingers.

A quiet sob escaped his throat.

"Grayson! _What has happened_?" Damian asked almost angrily, his eyes never leaving the stillness of Drake's face.

All the while, Grayson's sobs continued in the background.

Robin could feel the blood in him boiling. "I said, ' _enough_!'"

Still on his knees, he turned to the direction of Nightwing.

Grayson was no longer sobbing in a ball, but he was standing, his hands gripping the side of his head looking down in front of him.

Following his eyes, Damian eyes were met with the wide eyes of Jason Todd. A bullet hole clear as day in the center of his forehead. One arm was stretched out towards Damian palm up, the other lay atop his stomach. His front completely saturated in red, making the insignia on his chest look like a deformed bird.

Wide eyed, Robin slowly got back on his feet, now staring down at Todd.

All confidence, all anger, left Damian's voice. "Dick…W-What.. _Please_."

Grayson's eyes met Damian's. "You can't die because of me too…I…I _can't_ let that happen. _I can't._ "

"Grayson, what are you talking about - _NO_!"

Before Damian could blink, Grayson had a wingding tightly gripped in his hand and was bringing it up to his throat.

Robin reached out with his gloveless hand, running towards his older brother, but it was too late.

The metal of the wingding echoed in the darkness as it fell to the ground, now stained red.

The youngest Wayne dropped to his knees a few feet short of Nightwing, his old mentor, just as he too fell to the ground in a heap.

A sick, wet choking sound permeated the air as Grayson's hands gripped tightly at his throat. A fountain of red began to stream down his neck and through his fingers. Damian closed the distance between them and placed his hands on the blue of his mentor's chest.

" _What have you done_?!" The youngest Robin repeated like a mantra, as the choking sounds subsided after a few minutes. The only noise now coming from Damian as he cried at the loss of his brothers.

After a few minutes, a deep, monotonous voice penetrated the stillness of the air. "Where were you, Damian?"

Damian ceased his crying, his eyes widened and his turned to the direction of the voice.

Batman, standing in the middle of the light stared Damian straight on.

" _Father_ ," said Robin, his voice full with a newfound hope.

"Where. Were. You?" Batman asked again, his voice unchanging.

Damian felt his breath quicken as anger filled him once more. He stood up and approached Batman until he was only two feet away.

"Where was I? Where the _hell_ were _you?"_ Damian looked up at his father as he angrily jabbed his bloodied hand at Batman's chest, marking the gray of his suit.

"You failed. Your brothers are dead because _you failed them._ "

Damian's eyes widened in shock. The figure of Batman was beginning to blur even more through his tears. He shook his head repeatedly as he took steps back. "No, no, no. _You_ failed, Batman. _You failed._ Not I." The _squish_ of the blood beneath his feet echoed as his made steps backward.

The puddle of blood was spreading. The once gray concrete floor was now fully covered in the blood of his brothers.

With every step back, Batman moved forward towards Damian. "No. No. Stay away from me. _Stay away!"_

"You need to wake up, Dami."

"Don't you _dare_ call me by that name! You have no right!"

Batman was getting closer now.

" _Do not_ touch me!" With all of the strength left in him, Damian pushed Batman away from him.

* * *

Dick finished unwrapping the bandage of his hand and let out a low whistle. " _Phew_ \- that is one nasty cut." He brought his injured hand closer to his face as he tried to count aloud the stitches.

He had just gotten to nine when he heard Titus begin to whine from across the room. Looking up, he saw Damian still asleep on the couch, his eyebrows furrowed, his breath quickening, and Titus nuzzling his face to Damian in an attempt to wake him. The poor kid was having a nightmare.

"Hey, _hey_ , Dami wake up," he called out to him as he moved to get out of bed.

Lifting his injured hand above his head, Dick shifted both legs off the edge, ignoring the growing pain in his chest.

Titus seemed to know what he was planning to do, so he made room as Dick knelt by the couch near Damian's face.

"Hey, kiddo. It's just a nightmare," he said softly as he stroked his hair.

His face didn't seem to relax at all, his head making short movements left and right. From his experience, Dick knows not to wake someone up from a nightmare. You have to ease your way into it and pull them out of their terror that way. That's how Bruce had always done it when he was a kid. He did the same thing whenever Jason or Tim had nightmares too, because lord knows they get them more often then they'd like.

Dick continued to stroke his little brothers hair. "You need to wake up, Dami." Damian's eyebrows only furrowed deeper.

Dick grew even more concerned. "Hey, kiddo," he said as he placed a hand on Damian's cheek. "I'm right here you're sa-" Pain suddenly exploded in his chest as he was pushed backwards into the edge of the hospital bed, hitting the gunshot injury on his arm.

The sudden pain caused him to scream out-loud and his vision became blurry from the tears he tried to blink back. The wind was knocked out of him and _he couldn't breathe_.

" _Gah, ow, ow_ , _fuck,_ " Dick repeatedly quietly, or in his head - he couldn't tell, as he wrapped his arms tightly around his chest. He was gasping for air, trying to regain his breath.

Someone was trying to talk to him. Trying to tell him to _breathe._ He wanted so badly to tell them that _he was working on it_ and to give him a minute.

Every gasp was painful, and he felt like he wasn't getting enough air.

 _Don't pass out. Don't pass out. Breathe, Grayson! Come on!_ He kept telling himself. _Shit! I forgot how to breathe!_ Now, he couldn't tell if he couldn't breathe because of the pain, or the panic of not being able to breathe. _Probably both,_ he decided.

More people were talking to him now, but he couldn't make out their voices.

The breath was stopping short in his chest with every attempt to fill his lungs again. His eyes are clenched tightly shut and he's _trying so hard_ to, but _it hurts._

Suddenly, strong hands gently pull his arms away from his chest and his uninjured hand is being spread across something warm and solid, another hand laid atop his own.

His hand rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

 _Follow that rhythm, Grayson. Come on!_ He kept telling himself. His eyes remained tightly shut as he focused on breathing. On following the rhythm.

He tried to inhale as his hand rose. He pushed the air out of his lungs as it fell.

A voice became more distinct as the fog cleared.

That voice belonged to Bruce.

" _That's it, chum. You got it. In."_ His hand rose. " _Out."_ His hand fell.

After a few minutes, Dick was able to finally control his breathing. Lightheaded, Dick remained with his eyes shut until he was sure he wasn't going to pass out.

With one more deep inhale, Dick opened his eyes. His head was heavy, and everything was still kind of out of focus. His eyes followed his hand to Bruce's chest. Looking up at his face, Dick could see they were full of concern.

"You with us, chum?" He asked moving Dick's hand off of his chest so he can lightly pat the side of his face.

Dick mustered up the strength to give Bruce a lopsided smile and a thumbs up.

Bruce allowed a small smile himself, briefly before he got serious again. "Jason."

With just one word, Jason was on Dick's other side grabbing under his arm as Bruce did the same on the opposite, hoisting him gently up back onto the bed.

Why did Dick feel so tired? He continued to blink wearily to regain focus, but doing so was doing the opposite.

The voices were getting far away again. He closed his eyes again because it was getting so hard to keep them open.

"Bruce," Jason said, his voice full of concern. "I think the stitches on his arm reopened." A pause, and his arm was being moved around. " _Shit_ , Bruce. It's bleeding really bad." More pressure on his arm.

"Damian, go get Alfred." Another pause. " _Now."_

 _"Jason, keep pressure - "_

Dick didn't really hear what happened after that. He didn't really care. He was pretty tired, and the pain was getting duller and duller.

Maybe he'll just… close his eyes… a little longer.

* * *

A/N: I'm baaaaaaack. I went on here to just look at the reviews and I was inspired to write again. Thanks you to all who kept up with this story!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: This is just the last chapter in Jay's POV! It's mostly just a filler, but I love Jason with all my heart and he's my favorite okay.

Also, I posted this chapter 24 hours after the last one, so read that if you missed it!

* * *

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty is awake," Jason said casually crossing his arms and leaning on the console of the Bat-computer.

Bruce, now dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, had one eye closed as the other focused through the lens of a microscope. "I'll be done in a minute. Where is Timothy with the other microscope?" He replied unmoving.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Didn't know I was supposed to keep up with Burgerboy's whereabouts." He straightened up and walked closer to the console. "This the blood sample Tim just gave you?"

Jason tapped a few keys as Bruce continued to look through the microscope, displaying what Bruce was seeing on the Bat-computer. He looked up, eyes analyzing the cells of Dick's blood. Looked like a normal blood sample to him.

"Yes," he replied curtly.

"You find anything?"

Bruce lifted his face and rubbed tiredly at his eyes with one hand, "Not yet."

"Is there even anything _to_ find?"

Leaning forward in his chair, Bruce began tapping at the keys on the computer. "I don't know. We don't want to overlook anything." A pause. "How is he?"

Jason straightened up. "Confused. He needs some things cleared up."

"And Damian?"

"Baby bird's still asleep, last I checked." He turned towards the med-bay, but his eyes remained on his adoptive-father. "You coming?"

"I need to get the data of this sample scanned into the computer. It'll take a few minutes."

Jason shrugged his shoulders and began walking down the corridor towards Dick's room. He raised a hand towards his head and rubbed at his temples.

 _Fuck,_ he had a headache. He hasn't gotten much sleep since they got back from the bust. I mean, it was kind of hard to fall asleep anyways. There was too much to do; too much to worry about. He took his time getting back to the room. He didn't exactly want to start explaining anything without Bruce or the Replacement. Not that he _couldn't_ do the debrief for Wingnut, just he…he didn't really _want_ to. Batman's, or even Red Robin's, stoicism was much better suited for this one. He'd keep it short, sweet, and too the point without lingering too heavily on the finer details. What's the point of going in-depth if Dickface couldn't even remember anything?

He was reaching the end of the corridor where Dick's room was when he heard him scream out in pain, and Titus start barking in response.

Immediately a panic welled in Jason's chest. _Shit, shit, shit,_ he thought as he ran the remaining distance. He opened the door and his eyes were met with Titus, running in small circles, absolutely _flipping his shit_ and Damian staring wide-eyed at the floor in shock, looking like he just awoken from a nightmare.

He glanced at the bed. _Where the fuck is Dick?!_

"Damian!" He called to the kid over Titus's barking. "Where the hell is -," he stopped short when he followed the direction of Damian's eyes to the other side of the bed.

" _Fuck_!" He pushed his way past Titus still continuing to run in circles, and dropped to his knees on the other side of the room. Sure enough, Dick had his back leaning against the end of the bed, crouched in a ball grabbing at his chest with both arms. His face was scrunched in pain, his breathing erratic. His jaw tight as he tried to keep himself from screaming out.

"Titus! Bruce!" He shooed the Great Dane out, and he obeyed immediately. Jason placed his hands on both of Dick's shoulders and attempted to keep him up straight. "Damian! What the fuck is he doing on the floor? What happened?" Jason was practically screaming at the younger boy in an attempt to talk over Dick's hyperventilating.

" _Dick_! You need to _breathe_!" The second-oldest glanced back at the room's other occupant. "Damian! Answer me!" Said boy's eyes were still wide staring down at his brothers. Sweat could seen glistening on his face, his breathing quick like he _did_ actually just wake up from a nightmare, and woke up to another one.

"I - I didn't - I didn't mean to! I thought - I thought he -" Damian struggled to get the words out of his mouth as he glanced between the two of them in panic.

"What's going on?" A voice interrupted. Jason looked up towards the door and saw Tim, his eyes filled with worry and confusion.

Dick had yet to inhale a full lung of air, almost sounding like he was choking on nothing. His struggle came out in loud gasps with the periodic cry of pain. _Dick couldn't breathe!_

Tim moved beside him also placing his hands on Dick's shoulders. "We need to straighten him up. He can't breathe curled in like this." Both boys put their hands on either shoulders and the knees of his legs attempting to uncurl him.

"Dick! Stop! You're going to hurt yourself!" Jason tried to be gentle, acknowledging Dick's injuries.

"Come on, Wing. _Breathe_!"

Desperately, the two Reds tried to get their brother to cooperate, but their efforts were futile. Could he even hear them?!

Suddenly, the door opened and Titus reentered the room with Bruce in tow. Wordlessly, the two moved aside and let Bruce take their places. Gently, but with strong hands, Bruce pulled Dick's arms away from his chest. Taking Dick's uninjured hand and placing it on his own chest, Bruce covered Dick's hands with his. Together, their hands rose and fell with the breathing of Bruce's chest.

" _In,"_ Their hands rose. " _Out."_ Their hands fell.

Tim looked to be rummaging through the cabinets. "I can't find the oxygen mask. I'll go grab one from the med-bay," he said before leaving the room.

Both him, and surely the Replacement, has seen Bruce do this before. Whenever any of them struggled with a nightmare, or suffered from a panic attack, Bruce would do the same thing: Breathe with them. Jason wasn't sure if Damian had experienced that with his own Father, but he's sure Dickface was that person for him, just as Bruce was. They just haven't been around long enough for each other, with Bruce _kind_ of recently back from the dead.

Speaking of the baby bird.

"Damian," Jason began more quietly than earlier. "What happened?"

Damian watched and listened as Bruce continued to breathe with Dick.

"I was asleep. I believe I was having… a night terror and Grayson interfered. My instinct was to push him out of the way. I didn't know it was him," the kid replied, his eyes glued to the pair on the floor.

" _Shit_ kid, how hard did you push him?"

The kid tensed even more in shame and guilt, but a look of anger graced his face. _Gah, shit,_ Jason thought, _I'm not helping._

"Look, kid, he's alright. I didn't mean -"

"Jason," Bruce's voice interrupted. He glanced over and saw Bruce moving to lift Big-bird back onto the bed. Silently, Jason moved to do the same and together they gently hoisted him up back onto the bed.

Dickface only looked to be half-conscious and still struggling to stay awake.

Jason pulled his hand away from his older brother's arm only for it to be covered in scarlet liquid.

"Bruce," he said, not being able to hide the concern in his voice "I think the stitches in his arm reopened."

Jason began to peel away the bandages from the gunshot wound from earlier. It hadn't been a damaging wound, but Alfie did have to dig the bullet out. Bruce was already removing the bandages around Dick's chest to reassess the damage to his ribs.

Behind the bandage, the wound was swollen and his skin was torn further than the original stitches were. Half of the wound was completely separated from the stitches and looked even worse than the original gunshot!

" _Shit,_ Bruce. It's bleeding really bad." He held the bandages he just unwrapped firmly back on the wound as a temporary fix.

Bruce was in a frenzy, rummaging through cabinets. "Damian, go get Alfred." Apparently, he didn't move because it was followed almost immediately by an angrier, " _Now."_

"Jason, keep pressure on his arm."

Jason wanted to scoff at that. _Of-fucking-course,_ he wasn't going to let him bleed out!With his hands still firmly pressed on his wound, Jason slightly shook his brother as he saw that he was falling back asleep.

" _Hey, no, no, no._ Come on, Wingding, you had more sleep than any of us all night. Stay awake."

 _Fuck,_ he was not having a good day, was he? Dick's eyes were unfocused as they tried to find Jason's. His eyes couldn't find Jason's and they closed shut, his body falling limp on the bed.

 _Ah shit._

* * *

A/N: Pay attention to these little angsty events! They're adding to a bigger picture! I'm not planning on going into further detail on this whole scene. The next few chapters are going to move by quickly to focus on investigating Crane and his endgame. Any idea who the cloaked figure in the car is?


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I had this chapter written, but I didn't like it, so I tried to rewrite it and realized I liked this one more. That, and I packed my flash drive somewhere when I was moving out and just found it.

Warning: Brotherly bickering, and Jason still likes to use the "F" word a lot.

* * *

Things moved quickly after the… _incident_ with Dick. Tim reentered the room with the oxygen mask he sought after to see that Dick's gunshot injury was bleeding even more heavily than before. Alfred had run in only moments after, with a concerned Damian in tow. The old butler took Jason's place keeping pressure on the injury shooed everyone out, sans Bruce.

Turns out, it looked a lot worse than it actually was. The impact when Dick's wound hit the bed was enough pressure to not only tear his stitches, but especially _split-open_ his wound even further. His passing out was attributed to the fact they had already been weaning him off of the pain medication, so the amount of pain from the aggregation of his injuries on his chest and arm stunned him into a panic attack. The amount of blood loss was not as severe as they thought, so he didn't need a transfusion, but he did lose a lot of blood. The bruising on his chest was worse, but not significantly. Alfred put him on saline to help replenish the nutrients in his system, but said everyone needs to be patient. He just needs to sleep it off.

It's been about an half an hour since everything transpired, and Tim was still completely in the dark about what happened. He's been back in the lab of the cave since then trying to distract himself with the case.

They had _nothing._ Absolutely nothing.

Nothing out of the ordinary found in the needle they injected Dick with.

Nothing in the rebreather filtrations that they used when there was gas in the room.

Nothing on where the hell Crane could be.

Nothing on who hired him.

Nothing on what his endgame is.

Their case was completely dry! How did that happen? They had gotten so close to apprehending Crane. _So close_.

He leaned against the table and closed his eyes, his mind wandering back to his older brother.

 _Dick was fine when I left the room after he woke up,_ he thought. _What could have possibly happened?_ His mind tried to piece everything together.

Jason and Damian were still with Dick after he had left to run the sample.

He had heard Jason screaming to Damian about what happened when he was heading back, so Jason must've left the room shortly after he did if he didn't know what was going on either.

That left Damian.

Dick was on the floor leaning against the end of the bed. He was gasping for air and crying out in pain. Jason was trying to speak to him, telling him to breathe, but he couldn't.

Had Dick fallen and hit the bed on his way down?

Could it have been fear toxin that caused him to freak out? Maybe it _hasn't_ left his system…but there was no evidence to suggest that it hadn't.

If that was the case, he _needed_ to know everything. That was the only way to help Dick.

The young detective huffed in frustration. There were too many missing pieces!

Pieces that Damian could probably fill. Maybe he even had something to do with it. It wouldn't be out of character for him to hurt someone intentionally _._ He _was_ the only one in the room with Dick.

Exiting the lab, Tim sought after Damian. He needed to know _everything_. If this incident had been random, then there had to be something they were missing in their scans. Dick could still possibly be in danger.

He walked by Dick's room in the med bay, but saw that Bruce and Alfred were still tending to Dick. They wouldn't have allowed Damian in, so he couldn't have been in there.

Gym, maybe? The kid was normally there to unleash the fury that no eleven-year should even have pent up in their system, _ever_. He headed there next.

Surprisingly, he wasn't there either. Instead, Jason sat legs out on the sparring mat beginning to wrap his knuckles in bandages. The second eldest looked up as he heard him enter the room.

"Looking to spar, Timbo?" He asked continuing to wrap his hands.

"Maybe later. I'm actually looking for Damian. You seen him?"

Jason shook his head and looked down as he continued to wrap his hands, making the white of his hair fall over his face, partially covering his eye. "Alf sent him to his room. He feels really bad about Dick."

Tim's brows furrowed in confusion. "You mean, like worried?"

The older man scoffed. " _No_ , like guilty. He shoved him, or something, but it was an acc - _hey,_ where are you going?" The younger boy had already turned on his heels before he could finish his thought.

 _The little shit!_ He just _knew_ he had something to do with it! Tim was already heading up the stairs to the manor, the anger evident in his gait. What the hell made him think it was okay to hurt someone when they were already down? Has being part of this family taught him nothing in these past few years? And here he thought Damian had actually changed!

When he got to the top of the stairs and to Damian's room, Tim practically threw the door open. The boy in question was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling stroking his kitten.

"What the _hell,_ Damian?!" He stated angrily.

A look of shock appeared on the younger boy's face as he sat up before dissolving into a look of anger. "What are you on about, Drake?"

"You seriously thought it'd be okay for you _hurt_ Dick when he was already injured?"

The look of shock was back on Damian's face, mixed with hurt. "You fool! You know nothing! I - I didn't mean to!" As he began to yell back, the cat scurried off the bed and through the door past Tim's feet.

"How the _hell_ could you not mean to? You practically threw him onto the floor!"

Damian was on his feet now, approaching Tim who was standing in front of the door. "You weren't there! You don't know what happened!"

"And that justifies you wanting to hurt our brother?!"

"I never said it justified anything! It was an _accident!"_

The two were only a foot apart now. "How can you accidentally _push someone_ enough to make them bleed? To hurt them enough to not be able to even take a breath? How could this - " Instinctually, he threw his arms out and shoved Damian, the boy moving a few feet back. " - be an _accident_?!"

Damian only grew more angrier, a scowl on his face, his voice getting dangerously low. "Do _not_ touch me again, _Drake."_

"Oh sorry," he began sarcastically, "It was a _fucking accident."_

That did it.

In hindsight, Tim knew exactly what he was doing, but his anger, his confusion, his frustration got the best of him. It wasn't really fair to provoke the kid. Tim even knew that he jumped to conclusions, but here they were. The two Robins in the midst of an impromptu sparing match. Their punches lacked their usually grace and coordination. Both Robins were throwing punch and kicks mostly blindly out of anger.

* * *

Another voice joined the chaos. " _Hey!_ Knock it off!" That was Jason. The two didn't act as they heard them, instead continuing to work to harm each other.

Suddenly, Jason grabbed Damian and picked him up turning him away from Tim, his leg extending and placed on Tim's chest to keep them apart.

Tim leaned into Jason's leg, but did not make any further move to pursue Damian. Damian, however, continued thrashed around. "Hood! Release me immediately!"

Jason dropped his leg, and shifted his hold on Damian to where his feet were back on the ground, but still used one arm to hold him back. The other armer held up in Tim's direction as a placating gesture. "Not gonna happen. Hold _fucking_ still!"

Damian continued to thrash angrily, but less aggressively as before.

"Or fucking _don't_ , you little shit." He turned to address Tim. "You couldn't give me a second to explain what I knew?"

"What more is there to know, Jason? Damian tried to hurt Dick, and you're about to defend him?" He replied, breathing heavily.

"I don't need you to defend me, Todd! I can defend myself!"

Jason acted as if he didn't hear the youngest. "Do you fucking hear yourself right now, Tim? Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?"

"This isn't about me, Jason! This is about Dick! And he-" He pointed at Damian. " - tried to hurt him!"

"If you listened, you would've known that _he didn't fucking mean to._ "

"What the hell? How can he not mean to?! He hurt him! What - were you angry that you got yourself captured and Dick had to save your ass!"

"Tim, that's enough! Shut the fuck up and _listen_!"

At this point, Damian had gone still. Glaring angrily at the floor, Jason's arm still being held across his chest.

"Damian was still asleep when we left the room!"

Tim didn't retort, which invited Jason to continue. "He was having a nightmare. Dick tried to wake him up and got too close. The kid acted on instinct when he detected that someone was close to him. It was a fucking accident. Chill the fuck out."

Jason released his hold on Damian. "Sound about right, kid?"

Damian stood still, continuing to stare at the floor. "It was an _accident_ ," he confirmed in a quieter, much calmer, but confident voice. He words thick with guilt.

Tim stared wide-eyed, his look exchanging between Jason and Tim. Jason had put that together with so little information when Tim couldn't. Damian lashed out in his sleep! All of them were known to have done that before. Just this time the person on the receiving end happened to have been Dick.

Tim closed his eyes tightly and brought a hand to his temple. He released a heavy sigh, "Look, Damian. I'm -" He began, but he was cut off.

"Get out of my quarters," Damian stated calmly.

Without another word, Jason walked towards Tim and grab his arm as they headed out of the room. The door slammed shut behind them.

Jason kept a firm hand on Tim's arm as he led them further away from the Damian's door.

"Jason, I get it. Let me go," Tim said tiredly.

He threw his arm as they came to a stop at the end of the hallway and waited for Tim to turn around.

"No, I don't think you do. What the _fuck_ were you thinking jumping to conclusions like that? Damian's a fucking kid, you shitwad."

The other red leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. "Yeah, he is a kid. I get it. It just didn't look good for him, alright? I really thought he hurt him."

"Now, really think about that statement, Timbo." Jason crossed his arms casually, his face still angry. "You actually think _Damian,_ the kid practically attached to the hip of either Daddybats, or fucking, _you guessed it_ , Big-bird older brother, would actually want to cause him bodily harm after _one:_ ,"

He uncrossed his arms and held up one finger. "Wing-nut got his chest busted in, a bullet dug out of his arm, just overall _beat to fucking hell."_

He held up two fingers. "Two: The kid is blaming _himself_ for the mission."

Three fingers. "Three: Thinking the happy-go-skippy Golden-boy tried to _fucking kill himself."_

Four. _"_ Or four: after he stood by his bedside _the entire fucking night_ waiting for him to make sure he was okay _."_

Tim stayed silent at the revelation. He didn't take any of those factors into account. At all. These were things Tim _never_ overlooked.

Jason uncrossed his arms. " _Look_. I know you're worried about Dick, but you need to _calm the fuck down_ and stop looking for someone to take out your anger on."

Yeah, that was coming out of _Jason's_ mouth. Mr. _Used-to-kill-people-who-pissed-him-off._ But, _shit,_ come on. Even Jason grew up from that mentality and just, you know, hits other things and _doesn't_ kill them.

Jason thought Tim crossed the line targeting Damian like that.

"I know, Jay. I'm sorry." Tim continued to lean on the wall, now grasping the sides of his head.

"Why the fuck are you apologizing to me for?" Jason huffed, rolling his eyes.

"I'll give him some space for now and apologize later, alright?" Tim looked up at him with big, tired eyes still leaning against the wall.

Jason observed him critically. Tim hasn't gotten any sleep either since they got back. Kid looked exhausted. _Yeah,_ he thought. _Me too._ He also understood that it was going to be hard to get any sleep unless they _at least_ had a lead.

They didn't know where Crane could have gone.

They still didn't know all of the effects of this new formula.

They didn't know who hired Crane in the first place.

They were back at a dead-end on the Crane case.

He took a deep breath and tried to put himself in Tim's shoes. His stress found an outlet on Damian, that's all there was to it. He needed closure on this case. He had to make sure his family was going to be alright.

"We have other things to focus on. I know you're stressed out that we still haven't found Scarecrow, but you're acting like…well, _me._ And I think we all know that's not exactly a fun road to go down."

"I _know_ , I know, Jay. I just feel like we're missing something. And if we don't find that something out soon, someone is going to get hurt."

Jason shook his head and looked down as the silence grew. Both taking a second to collect their thoughts.

"This whole night… it isn't his M.O. There's something else going on, I just know it," Tim thought out loud.

 _No one else gets hurt,_ the Red Hood thought. _Not by some pyscho in a burlap sack._

Jason walked passed Tim and started heading for the cave, inviting him to follow. "So, let's fucking catch this son-of-a bitch."

* * *

A/N: There wasn't a lot of TimTim in the last few chapters, so just gonna _sliiiide_ this chapter in. Sorry if you think it's super out of character! A little unnecessarily theatric, but eh. Just a tiny bit more angst before I move the plot along.

And so the family begins to unravel.


End file.
